Mayweed blossoms
page: 0 (TitlePage) [View Page 0 (TitlePage) ] MAYWEED BLOSSOMS. BY LOIS WAISBROOKER, AUTHOR OF "ALICE VALE," "HELEN HARLOW'S VOW," "SUFFRAGE FOR WOMAN," ETC. 119 NASSAU STREET. 1871. WILLIAM WHITE AND COMPANY, "BANNER OF LIGHT;' OFFICE, I58 WASHINGTON STREET. NEW YORK AGENTS: THE AMERICAN NEWS COMPANY, 119 NASSAU STREET. 1871. page: 0[View Page 0] EntertEd, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, BY LOIS WAISBROOKiER, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. Electrotyped at the Boston Stereotype Foundry, No. 19 Spring Lane. MY FRIENDS EVERYWHBE, AN TO MY BEST FRIEND IN PARTICULAR, THAT 7'HEV MAY COME FORTH FROM LIFE'S TRIALS WiTH A RECORD AS STAINLESS AS THE PETALS OF THE H1UMBLE MAYWEED, AND WITH A HEART-RICHNESS WHCH SHALL FIT THEM TO BLOOM WITHIN THE GATES OF PARADISE,. IS THE SINCERE PRAYER OF LOIS WAIS3ROOKER. page: 0[View Page 0] TO THE READER. KIND READER: You may think that I have chosen a singular? name for the collection which I now give you in book form; but is it not good to seek to glorify common things? And though The Mayweed is a bitter herb, A humble whyside flower, With neither form nor fragrance To grace a regal bower; A comnmon, vulgar, wayside weed, That few would ever pause to heed; Yet deep within its heart of gold The sunbeams love to play, And from its petals purely white Comes the unbroken ray Which gives the colors all in one, Reflecting all, retaining none. L. W. page: 0-7 (Table of Contents) [View Page 0-7 (Table of Contents) ] CONTENTS. ,I PAGE , WHAT MAYWEED SXID........................." I C NTFAINT NOT..... 15 THUE FLOWERSrOF LIFE ... .............. .... .. 1) 1h IEART LEAVES .2........................... 2) " PLEASURE................. ........... 21 lWE'VE GOT A GARDEN . ............. ..... 22 COUNTING TIIE STARS. ...................... . 23 : THOUGHTS ............................ 21 - PLEASANT FLOWERS .............. 25 THE TWO HOMES. ..........................2 'i r THE USE OF THE BE AUTIFUL . ...... . ...... 2" AUGUST..3. ........... .......... 33 THE OLD PASTURE FIELD. .... . ........ ... 31 : LOVE . ......................... ....... 3' DISCOURAGED .............. ..'...3 L C LIGT IN DARKNESS ...................... ... 38 ' rLIFE i ...... ................ ........... THE MSTA1EN VINE ....................... 41 PROGRESSION ..4...... . ...................4. THE LOVE OF GOD. ....... ....... ...;..... 45 "STEN. ................. ..'......... 413 5'J SIOWERS ............................. 4t i 5IMY GOD, MY HEAVEN, MY ALL . ................ 48 X ,MARRIAGE AND GENIUS. ... ................ page: 8 (Table of Contents) -9 (Table of Contents) [View Page 8 (Table of Contents) -9 (Table of Contents) ] 8 S CONTENTS. SPIRIT UNION.. ...............* ' ...... 50 SANCTIFICATION. ........ .............. . 55 TILE HEARTH l' AND THE HEART. ............. * . .7 CIILDREN NEVER PAY FOR THEIR BRIGINGG UP . . 59 THEl LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS..- ......... ........ G0 GLIMPSES ........................... ... * POETRY . .... ...... ** **......... *..* C)3 A CHORUS OF ANGELS. . .. ..... ...*. .... *...* 64 SLEEPING IN T:IE SUNSHNE.................. . .G ANGEL WHSPERINGS.- . .. ......* ... . 6. MORNING CLOUDS .... .................. 70 "GHT .... .... .........73 REPLY TO POE'S IESURREXI .................... 74 DRENCHED.. .. ........................... TRUTH, LOVE, AND LIBERTY . ...............* ....* APPLES OF GOLD. . ...... ...............1.. . TIE FAIREST SIGIIT ........ .. ........-. t68 "OVE AND WISDOM.3 ........... ........ c ,90 IOONLIG T MUSINGS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . NATURE ................................. 93 SUMMER RAIN . ......... ................ MOTHER, BABY. .............. ......... *..... THE FAIRY HOST . .. .... ...- ............ HOW I LEARNED IT . .. ... STAR VOICeS ..........* *** .............*** * 10 *. . . 105 I AM HERE . ........................... DEATH NEVERMORE . .... . .........1... 106 BEAUTY AND ITS LOVES .....................10 DRIEAMS AND REALITIES ..1.....10**.***. 1 * TWO SIDES TO THE PICTURE ........... ........ 113 MOTTLED SUNSET. ...... *** *** A HOME IN HEAVEN. . ....... ......* .1. A LEAF FROMEMEV ORY .......................... ' 122 A LEAF FROM MEMORY . .2.... SIMLITUDES. . . *................** *** ** * *** SOUL PICTURES . .............** * . 130 THE SMILE OF GOD ...... ................. , . , CONTENTS. 9 GROWING OLD. . ... .................... 1 "UCY, DARLING. ....................... EARTH ANGELS. .... ... ........... MY FATHER. .... .. .. ....... ........ ... . 1 CLOUD FANCIES . ............. 18 THE EMBI,EM ...... .... .... 1.......... ..... THE SONG OF THE INVALID ................... 1 THEN . ..5 ....... ........... ...... .... 12 THE MAGDALENE ........ .. ....... .......... l BEAUTIFUL BY REFLECTION ................. 15 PATIENCE.... ........ . .............. ........ SHADOWS ........... . ... .............. . .. 146 COME TO ME, ANGELS ... .... ..14...7.. 147 TWENTY YEARS AFTERWARD .................. 19 ' TIlE RESURRECTION OF TIE FAIRIES. ........... 1.. 11i2 DELSPONDENCY. .......... ................... 114 HEAVEN' S NEED OF EARTH ..... ...... ........ 11iO "OVE'S TRIUIMPH .........1......... . 1, 161 CHARITY .. ............. ........... ..... 198 CHAP. I. A WoMAk OF PRANCII PLE .. .............. 198 CHAP. II. TIE TRACT DISTRIBUTORS ..,....... 207 CHAP. III. M s. TAYOR'S STORY, ......... ... 23 CIAP. IV. IFURTIIER DEVELOPMENTS OF CHARITY ...... 240. CHAP, V. THE FINALE ..... .. . . .....,. 2155 o - z t page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] MAY WEED BLOSSOMS. WHAT MAYWEED SAID. WHEN the sunlight bursts forth in its bright- ness, or the rainbow arches the clouds, my soul leaps with gladness, and I think, "Who so happy as I? Who so much cause for rejoicing? But when the clouds return after the rain, and the chilling winds cause my sensitive spirit to shrink within itself, I feel like exclaiming, " O, ye that pass by, turn and see if there is any sorrow like unto my sorrow!" It was upon such' a time as this that I wandered forth and sat me down upon a friendly log, by the side of which grew the homely Mayweed. "Just like my en- tire life,"'said I, as I looked upon its familiar face; "unattractive without and bitter within; no sweetness, no beauty, covered with dust, and trampled under foot' in the highway." But as I thus pondered, a busy bee paused in its onward flight to salute the humble weed, " page: 12-13[View Page 12-13] q2 ilIAY WEED BLOSSOMS. while a voice, that seemed to issue therefrom, said, W\lere there no sweetness the bee would not tarry in its flight, and as fo the beauty, wait." Surprise changed the current of :my thoughts, and forgetting my sorrow, i I listened intently for more, and lo! I wa taken back t, the very morning of m1y childtcmea The simple weed seed d possessed of clairvoyance, for it told me of the timne when I had pressed its kindred beneath my little feet, as I made my way for the first time to the portico of a-b-c-dom, and there was no sorrow in the recollection. Ah, the very spirit of May- weed! I could fancy it to have stepped forth from the form, and to be leading my spirit over the pathw y of that life of whichh I had spoken so bitterly. Back and forth we went over the devious windings of that sumimer at school. "ee here," said my guide; do you remen- ber this creek, by the side of which you used to play, brineging moss from the woods to arpet the sand; the floor of the play-hoiuse, and to make a bed for dolly, decking the whole-with the scarlet berries that grew beneath the pines?" Just here came the thought of the day I played in that sanme creek till' the teacher had to wrap me in her shawl while she dried my clothes. Well, I suppose it was not quite so pleasant in the tihme of it, but I question if the delight of paddling in the liquid crystal did not fully compensate for the annoy- ance of the' wise sayings of, 9 See what little girls get by being naughty," etc., etc. If not, I am sure thtt the laughs 1. have had-since, in reference thereto, have more than maide up the deficiency. No, there was no sorrowin te recllectio of those yers. What cared I for poverty? The trees and the flowers were as beau- ,' .fUl A' TRlA T WJWIED SAID. . 1 13 tiful to me as to the richest; the broad earth was as green, and the blue heavens as bright; and then, in my grandfather's home, where I was privileged to .stay through that, my four-year-old su&ner, -a very un- pretending lwelling by the way, but to me wonderful, -within was comfort, and without the glorious old pear trees, the big sweet apple tree that alhnst tossed its fruit into our bedroom window, with the plums, and the cherries, the walnuts that grew in the fields, and the chestnuts in the woods. What a world of treasure stored away in the chambers of Memory, to be enjoyed even yet! "Is it not so?" said Mayweed; and my spirit could but reply in the affirmative; and yet, with a kind of perversity which is perhaps peculiar to me, I look some two1 years ahead to a scene in that same home, where I find myself In tears. Tears for what? Why, you see, "Little girls must be industrious," and I was leaining to knit; but the glad shouts of uncles not much older than myself, and of cousins also, have tempted me from my task, and here I am in the midst of them, my hair streaming in the wind, and as merry as the merriest; but a voice that I dare not disobey summons me back to my little chair and my knitting- needles with, "Ain't you ashamed to be out there with the boys?" and so I weep, but not much; for that only brings additional reproof to the eldest granddaughter, of whom they are somewh!at proud, and would like to manufacture into ,the article known as "Lady." A little thorn this, but I cannot forget the pain quite so quickly as I did the other, for it was a real robbery of my rights, and my heart goes out in sympathy to the thousands who have been robbed in like manner. page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] Y BLOSSOMS. ' Mayweed, however, is again at hand, and she gently leads me back to the school-room. t Do you recollect, she says, " when you read of the lazy sheep* who ate grass, and daisies wlfte,' how you wondered what the white daisy was? There was a golden-colored, buttery- leafed flower, which you had named'yellow daisy, but nothing that had ever fallen under your eye that filled your idea of what a white daisy should be; and yet you might be mistaken, and, wandering in a by-path by your- self, when recess came, you gathered some of the fairest of the Mayweeds among my ancestors, a;ld tried to make yourself believe that they were the flowers intended." While Mayweed was thus remindin r me of the an- cient examination, I plucked, and began, unconsciously, to examine :a blossom from the one before me; when a voice by my side - a real human voice said, You think that is homely, auntie; but just look through this, and then see; " presenting me, at the same. time, a magnifying glass of moderate power. "Well, Charley, this does change the appearance somewhat," said I; ; but it is not very beautiful yet." He regarded me a moment with an amused look, and then handed me one of much higher power, I adjusted it to the humble weed, and what a transformation! Glorious beyond all I had ever imagined, the very dust upon its leaves sparkling like diamondsk. "'Beautiful! beautiful "I exclaimed, in rapt astonishment, when there came a soft whisper, "No beauty, no sweetness. Is thy life like the Mayweed's?" "Would to God it might be!" was the full response of my heart. The lens of thy spirit is the glass through which thou must look upon. it," came in sweet reply. " 4 it expands thou wilt find the bitter bringing sweetness - the unat- tractive changing to attractive - then beautiful, then dazzlingly glorious - brighter and still brighter, as the jewels polished by the rough hand of Time reflect the blaze of Eternity." I listened till the voice ceased, and then went forth content. FAINT NOT. FAINT not, soul, beneath thy sorrow; Lopg the night that brings no morrow; Woo thou Hope, and she will sing, While she folds her' fluttering wing, Soothing strains, tq cheer thy way, Till night brings the new-born day. Courage, courage, struggle on: If a cloud obscures thy sun, Dream not' that thy joys are past; Of thy faith 'tis but a test: Courage, and it. soon shall be A crowning gem in victory. page: 16-17[View Page 16-17] 16 IMAIYWEED BLOSSOMS. FLOWERS THAT BLOOM BESIDE THE WATERS. FLowERS that bloom beside the waters, Murmuring, waters, Coming from the chidden fountains Of the heart, - Fathomless founitains That, with joy or sorrow moved, Give the tints those flowers are showing, - All the hues in which they're glowing, As a mirroi'r Giveth back an image true. Flowers that bloom beside the waters, Gushing waters, That with life instinctive swelling, Upward welling, ever welling, Out in rivulets are flowing, On the banks of which are growing, In varied hues, Those blooming flowers - Flowers, and buds, whose bursting fragrance Floateth heavenward, - Floateth th rough the upper air Till the angels bend to breathe it, Bend to breathe it, And return it, , Sweetening thus our every care. FLOWERS BESIDE THE WATERS. 17 Flowers that bloom beside the waters, Laughing waters, Leaping upward, Like a full-toned shout of joy, When the soul takes in the gladness, Draughts of gladness, That through Nature's wide domains Flows, as floweth through our veins The living tide; Leaping up, then backward falling To the earth, For the flowerets that are calling. Ktnow their worth; Knowr, they to those liquid crystals Owe their birth. Flowers that bloom beside the waters, Bitter waters, Where the wormwood of affliction Hath been cast, Till with shrinking we have shivered As they to our lips were pressed; Waters where the fragrant rose Blooms, then sinks to its repose With the thorns all turned within, Drawing from life's vital fount Its crimson hues. Flowers that. bloom beside the waters, All along the path of life; Born of grief, or born of gladness, - Born, where rippling o'er its bed 2 page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] 18 M1iA YEED BLOSSOMS. B ' 'Tis so shallow, That each pebble Gives an eddying whirl, And the sunlight makes it sparkle, Till 'tis' faireil E'en than they, the owers. Born where in their quiet flow Silently the waters go, Hiding all their depths; Or where, windin4through the shade Where the cares of life have hid The light of heaven In that shadow of the tomb, Growing up without perfume, Fading almost ere they bloom, An ashen hue is given'. Born where life becomes a cascade, Leaping from some rocky wall, - Leaping till its shivered atoms Weave the sunlight f Into rainbows, While the foaming and the dashing Tend to quiet flow again, - Even here they will be blooming, For they're sown belide all waters; Germs of flowers, By angel hands. Germs of flowers that bloom to wither,- Here on earth flowers will wither, But their fruits, ,iTE iFI l2O ERS OF LIFE. If protected, they shall ripen In a fairer world than this - Ripen for the hands that sowed them, Iipen for the hearts that nourished. Both shall share The harvest bliss. THE FLOWERS OF LIFE. THE burning sun of noon was o'er me; A long journey lay before me; I looked around on all the plain or shelter, but I sought in vain. Just then I saw, far down the way, A flower of colors bright and gay: I ran in haste to gather it, Unmindful of the noontide heat. And then another and another Drew me still further on and further,- Ah, yes, they even drew me on Until my journey was quite done; Then, as I turned to seek for rest, Thinking how much I had been blest, 'Twas thus I mused, What should we do But for life's flowers, as we pass through?" page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] 20 * -IMAYWEED BLOSSOdMS.; !f ' , HEARTI LEAVES. Heart leaves, as ye turn then o'er, Ye that are called sages, Can ye read the mystic lore Traced upon their pages? O, THE heart! the he arlt I rWhat a strange, con- plicated piece of workmanship! The human lleart, the seat of feeling and affection, of all the varlious emotions which go to make so large a. share of tihe hap- piness or misery of the individual! Heart leaves: turn them over; read them till their number siall exceed the leaves of the forest; but do not imagine, even thlln, that thy task is accomplished, for new ooes continue to present themselves, each varying froml the other, and stretching on, onward, till the years of eternity are num- bered. Only to the eye of the Infinite are they spread out in one ever-present panorama. As the lights and shades-the' rough and smooth places, and all that, taken separately, would look like unmeaning distortions - are needed to make the work of the artist perfect, to make a picture that shall pro- claim a master's hand, so is each leaf in that wondrous book called "The Heart" needed to form a perfect vol- ume. But here there are no stereotyped editions - no ten thousands struck from the same type. No; each book is a new work, complete in itself- original and distinct from all others. You may do tkem up in the same covers, give them the same title, anc try to pass them off for eppies of the. IJEAIM LEA VB8s. -,2 same work that it will not do; sooner or later you will discover that God declares his infinity in all his works; and that variety is the natural language ofthat innity. Cease then, poor foolish mortal, to measure the capabil- ities of another by thine own. Think not, when thou hast deciphered a portion of'whats written pon ome page of thine ow heart, tha thou hast obtained so much of an insight into the mthtitudes of hearts around thee; for none but the "dearGod" can fathom thelif springs of humanity, and he only can touh the oife-ords to Which their deep Pulsations vibrate. PLEASURE. LONG time I sought for Pleasure; At length to me she came, And with her a companion, . The people call her Pain. She quickly introduced me To this unwelcome one, And then as quickly left me, I But, O, she went alone! page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] 2A YWRED BLOSSOMS" : WE'VE GOT A GARDEN!" O , e've got a arden! come and see our garden!" said a little, slender, blue-eyed child, in one of those dwellings so common i cities, those which are so closely huddled together that there seems hardly room left for a breath of air to intervene. wondered where room could be found for a garden in that crowded place. I followed the child, however, and she led me to the back part of the building, then pointing to a win- dow over the sink, she bade me look out, and there, on about a yard of ground, I saw a few green sprouts of some kind, the seeds of which had been accidentally scattered, and had taken root i0 that ognia pace. Never: shall I forget thile sickening feeling which came over me as I looked at those pale, ickhiy plants anthey then into the eyes of that equally delicate child, as they danced for joy, while sh contiqued releatin, "See! dance for arden haven'e got a garden.?"It was we've got a ',T lot to be 11-1 aturc'5s own voice, speaking in language not to be mis- t she love of her chil- understood, sserting herit to te love of r chil- dren. oAnd then to' think that this feeling must be warped, nwisted out of shape by the force of surround- ing circumlstances, and perhaps entirely cushood fromwas the heart of that trutinig one r siomanhood whave attained, was indeed sad. o e s en I thougft of that child, and wondered t a been Iher fme; and how often, as I have seen large plts of ground running to waste for ntof cultivation, e thought howun differently they wnould look, if the owners loved their gardens as she loved hers CO UNTING THE STARS. 23 COUNTING TIE STARS. You ask me what? I'm thinking of, And willingly I'll tell, ; For 'tis of other scenes-on which, Fond memory loves to dwell. I'm thinking of a cottage fair That stood among the hills, Where I sported in my childhood, Amid the sparkling rills. I'm thinking of a grassy plot Before that cottage door, Where carelessly I laid ncm down One night, in times of yore,- Yes, carelessly I laid me dlown, Unmindful of the dew That fell like sympathizing tears. From yonder arch of blue. I looked upon yon milky path, Which seemeth to me now Like a wreath of silvery roses Upon Creation's brow, And thought it was a fleecy cloud' That stretched across the way, And cast its shadow on the path Of the departing day.. I looked upon Night's radiant gems, ' And with my childish eye, page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] 24 : IAYWEED BLOSSOIS. I tried to trace my alphabet Upon that page so high;. I counted clusters one by one, The great ones and the small, Until atlast I thought that I Would try and count them all. Ah, little did I think That the angels hovering o'er me Were greater in their number Than the stars that shone above me! Ah, little did I think' That those orbs, so wondrous fair, Were to me but a symbol, My angel name a star! THOUGHTS. THOUGHTS are angel children, begotten in the depths of congenial minds, and brought forth from thence, to bless or curse the world. See to it, then, O mortal even to the character of thy thoughts, for by them thou shalt' know whether thou art in sympathy with good or evil angels. Evil is undeveloped good. . Ia PLEASAlvNT FLO0W.&,ERS. 25 PLEASANT FLOWERS. WHEN I was twelve years of age, my father rented a house and lot of Esquire C--,in the town of D--. His daughter had her bed for flowers, andof course I must have one, so I selected a spots and filled it with the choicest seeds and roots that I could obtain. Two years passed. They grew and flourished, yielding their share of beauty to gladden our hearts, and then we changed our residence. The following spring 1 visited my friend, and with her the spot which had once been my home. -low changed! The house ws full of ma- chinery instead of happy children. The garden fence was thrown down, and what had once been so carefully tended was exposed to the invasion of anything- that close to enter. I surveyed the scene in silence, but passing round the house, a vision of beauty met my eye which chased away my sadnesss. There were some of my flowers in full bloom, bending their heads gracefully to the morning breeze in spite of the surrounding ruin.- And can we not. thus plant flowers in the moral, as well as in the natural world, such as will bloom in the midst of desolation? What though we m6ve from place to place, is it anythe less our duty to scatter sunshine as we go? , ' page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] 26 . j MA YWRED BLOSSOMS. THE TWO HOMES. "ONG years have elapsed since I gazed on those homes So dear to my heart when a child; Where plants of affection sent forth their perfumer, A'd grandparents looked on and smiled. They who dwelt in those homies were equally kind, I cannot tell,which I loved best; Then why in my dreams do I still always find That but one is the place of m4 rest? Why is it I pause but a moment at one, Then hasten to pluck the bluebell Which grew o'er the river? or yetl farther on I seek the wild grape of the dell? Then off to the hills where the blheberry grows, Or on the brookside the wild plum? 'Tis thus when my body has sunk to repose I wander away from that home. But when to the other, on wings of delight I speed me, full long is my stay; In the orchard and garden I revel ll night, Nor leave till the breaking of day.? O, this is the cord, the secret that bound! My heart like a charm to the spot- Here flowers and fruits in abundanqe were found, While they at the other were not; ,I ' - i' l.1 HE USE, OP TIE BEA UTIFUL. 27 THE USE OF THE BEAUTIFUL. "T is very pretty, but I don't know as it is of much use to soul or body either." The above remark was made in my earing, not long since, by a lady who has lived more th n sixty years in this beautiful world, upon being show a nice piece of worsted embroidery. "It is very pr tty, but I don't know as it is of much use to soul or body either." And what is your idea of use? thought I, as I lo6ked into her time-worn face. Is it that a thing is of no value, unless it will bring money or its equivalent? God must have made a strange mistake in preparing a home for man, if money is the sine qua non of all that is desirable; if a beautiful thing is of no use be- cause we can neither eat, wear, or sell it, which latter we cpuld never do if there were none to appreciate it. If, then, it is of no use because it cannot be appreciated in any of'these ways, why did God send forth the spirit of beauty to pervade, like the breath of life, all created thingls ? Beautiful, and yet of no use! O, woman, thy gray hairs should mnake thee venerable; but has the lapse of years so shrivelled up'thy soul that thou canst feel no joy in looking upon that which is lovely? Does the song of birds, the delicately tinted flower, the stately tree, "With quivering bliss of thousand leaves, Kissed bly the wooing summer breeze," the gorgeous sunset clouds, the shining stars, or blush 6 ' page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] 28 i2MA YW-EED BLOSSOMAS. of early morn, never awaken emotions of gladness, and cause thy spirit to thrill with unutterable bliss? Canst thou see nought in fields of wuaving ,rain, flocks of bleating sheep, droves of lowing kine, but the shiningT dollar? Canst thou look upon the abundance of luscious fruit, or listen to the hum of bees, and think of nothing but the gratification of the palate? Then, indeed, art thou miserably poor. Though thy posses- sions should reach from the rising of the sun to the set- ting th thereof, the veriest begar, whose heart is open to the charms of nature, is richer than thou, and may say, in the language of the poet, Cleon hath his million acres, Not a penny I, Yet the poorer of the twain Is Cleon, and not I." If that mother has spent all the years of her life thus, if she has brought up her ten children to see no value in aught but money, the world could well. have spared her for all the good she has ever done it. She may be called an energetic woman ; but of what use has that energy been, if it has only moulded the hearts of, her children into stone, by making them inset- sible to all the softer influences of life, thus crushing out the better part of their natures? If, under her in- fluence, her' sons and daughrters barter .their best affec- tions for gold or position, what is gained by such/ ener- gy? Are families made happy, is society better, does the blessing of the poor follow in its footsteps? "God is love, and they who dwell in love dwell in God ;" 'tis true, also, that he, is an energetic power, and . . - , 1 THE USE OF THE BEAUTIFUL. 29 that energy, which trains souls without the love of God as seen in his works, is training them for a harvest of sorrow. Suppose those children yield themselves to such an influence, become moulded and fashioned with one ab- sorbing idea, money, what happiness can their compan- ions or children find in their society? And even if their love of possession should be restrained sufficiently to keep their hands off the property of another, what benefit will they ever be to neighbors or friends? But suppose, when they coime to act for themselves, that they should break aw1ay from the unnatural restraints of their childhood, and seelk in the gratification of their appetites or passions, compensation for the higher and nobler enjoyments of which they have been deprived, what then? Why, we shall have the drunkard, the glut- ton, or the heartless libertine. O, mother, what a sad mistake you made when you thought that the love of the beautiful was of no use to soul or body either! This love is implanted in the heart of all, it is a want of our' nature, and throughout the works of Nature we find provision made to meet tlis want; but if this provision is left unappropriated, this part of ourselves uncultivated, the restless longings of our souls will find vent somewnhere, and streams turned from their course are apt to do mischief. If parents only felt, and taught their children to feel, th:at "-a thing of beauty is a joy forever," what different looking homes s!hould we see all over the land! Neat- ness would take the , ace of filth, and beauty of deform- ity. We should not see pigsties and barnyards in such iclose proximity to otir dwellings, neither would those il ,1 page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] 30 MA YWEED BLOSSOMS. dwellings be exposed to the scorching rays of the sum- mer sun or the driving blasts of winter because each cooling, protecting shade hitd been destroyed; and their walls would not be lined, as they now often are, with store advertisements, or other coarse pictures. How my heart ached to see rooms that were daily frequented by bright-eyed, beauty-loving cherubs, dis- figured by the portrait of some public dancer, dressed in almost any conceivable style but a modest one; or perhaps a rude sketch of some bloody battle, placed in a conspicuous view. Do such parents ever stop to think of the power of association, or do they not care? Do they not know that our characters are, in a great measure, formed by what is continually presented for our admiration? andif. they admire such things enough to give them a place in that sacred spot called home, will, not their clildren think them valuable, and the scenes they represent wortfhy of being imitated? Very young children will, if properly taught, soon see the difference between the beautiful and the comical or ludicrous. I was once spending a few months ih a family where this part of the soul was well cultivated. One day Charley brought in a comic p)icture that lhe had found somewhere, and gave it to his little sister, but little more than three years old. She looked at it a moment, then commenced laughing heartily. IIs it pretty, Fanny?" said her mother. "It's funny," she replied. It was not pretty, but funny; it excited her mirth, but :not her admiration. Very correctly an- swered; but how had this young child learned so soon to select the proper language for expressing the differ. O 9 lt THtE USE' OF THE BEAUTIFUL. 31 ence? Go to the play-room where she spent hours each day with her brothers and sisters. Look at the papers and magazines that were appropriated to their use, and from which every beautiful picture was carefully selected and arranged, while:the funny ones were laughed at and thrown' aside, and you will have an answer. Children love pictures, but this love is liable to be perverted. If we take no pains to place before them images of the beautiful and true, the image of that which is deformed and untrue will form its counterpart in their minds, and go to help make up their characters. But it is not only children that love pictures- the pas- sion is universal, or so nearly so, that of him who does not, it may be said, as of- him who has no music in his soul, he "Is fit for treason, stratagems, and death." Then why should' this part of our souls be so neglected? "Better be earning something to support herself, than spending her time making pictures,'" said a stern back- woodsman of his sister, who was gratifying her love of nature by tryilg to imitate its beauties. But who support themselves best? Let those who know them both answer. Ald go ask that sister if she regrets the time thus spent because it has brought her no golden returns, and she will tell you that money could never purchase such pure pleasure as she has derived from thence. , No; believe me reader, let your walls he adorned by pictures of your own make, or the works of others, that you have learned to appreciate by discipline in that direction, and their presence will create a charm from page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] 32 MAYWEED BLOSSOMS. which you would not willingly break away; a something without which your life would seem incomplete. How many young men, who now frequent the saloon or gambler's hell, would never have been seen there if pains had been taken to make their homes attractive, by gratifying this innate part of their nature. And why should those who have taken it upon them to lure souls to, ruin, understand this so much better than they to whom God has intrusted the business of training thetm aright? t O," says the poor man, "I have to work to get a living for my family. I have no time to whitewash, paint, plant trees, or train vines. I have no money to buy pictures, or to pay out to have my children taught to make them." But you may find time to have an ach- ing heart when they flee from your comfortless home, to seek at Destruction's mouth the gratification of those tastes for which you have neglected to provide. "Where there's a will, there's a waS ." If you could but see the value of such things, you would find time and money too, even if you did without your tobacco, or something else equally useless, if not pernicious. t But," says one, ' what has all this to do with worsted embroidery?" * Nothing, only it forms a part in the chain of the beautiful, the ornamiental, which ro to make up so much of the enjoyment of life; and they who would repudiate it, because "it does no good to soul or body either," would repudiate a. thousand 'other things for thb'same reason, without which life would not be very desirable. Recreation we must have; it is a necessity of our ,.,I AUGUST. 33 existence; even the toiling captive proves this by songs that lead the unthinking to believe him happy; and what more innocent recreation can we!find thani trying to imitate God in his works? But," says another, "would you have a woman neg- lect her household affairs to embroider or paint?" Never. I would have her see that these are kept in the best of order, but I would have her taught so to arrange them, as not to make a drudge of herself; and I would have her husband, brothers, and sons remember that she needs relaxation as well as they; and I would have them all feel that whatever tends to increase their happiness, whatever adds to the attractions of home, and makes the thought of it a pleasant thing, is good for soul and body both. AUGUST. THE Sun is an ardent lover These brilliant August days, And Earth, as he bendeth above her, Shrinks from his burning gaze. O Sun, deal gently with her, Lest she faint in thine embrace. ' 3 4i page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] 34 MAYWEED BLOSSOMS. THE OLD PASTURE FTIELD. DEAR sister, I'm thinking, to-night, of the place Where, sporting in childhood's bright day, With hearts on which sorrow had left not a trace, We carolled the glad hours away. I think of the spring, and the streamlet which ran In its gay laughing beauty along, Of the flowers that bent o'er it, their beauty to scan, Or list to its murmuring song. The banks where the hazel and June-berry grew, The log which we lised as a bridge For crossing the stream, which smiled from below, Or struggled in impotent rage. I think of the aspen, jso ready to tell When the soft summer zephyr flew by, The oak in the corner, whose acorn-cups fell From boughs that seemed up in the sky. I think of the vine, whose tendrils alone Supported its clustering weight - The hoary old rock, whose particles shone Like jewels reflecting the light. I think how we hastened with eager delight To greet the old pasture-field slide, When Winter came down with his garments of white, The bosom of Nature to hide. I THE OLD PASTURE FIELD. 35 But years, as I think, keep coming between, With lessons of wisdom and truth; As things that recede, in the distance are seen, So now are the days of our youth. The river of Time, as onward it rolls, Forbids us our steps to retrace, While change after change sweeps over our souls, As if all the past to efface. But change, though it often comes christened in tears, Is proving itself but a friend; Each tint in life's picture the plainer appears, The nearer we come to life's end. We know that the beautiful blossoms of spring Must fade ere the fruit we can taste; And life's many changes were given to bring Earth's weary ones home to their rest. "OVE. Tu nE magnetic chain which binds in one the universe of mind and matter, -the gravitating power attracting all things to one conmmon centre, even to Him, whose love is the life of all things. , !/1 I page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] 36 IJA YWEED BLOSSOMS. DISCOURAGED. DIscOURAGED, ah! Discouraged, are you? Well, I do not know that I can give you better advice than father used to give me when I complained of being tired. He used to say that I must put tired to tired, and at it again; and I suppose you will have to do the same with your discouragements. Poor consolation, do you say? I know that it is, but I can give you no better; and I , am not sure that it is so poor after all. What could I say that would be more to the purpose? You don't know? Neither do I; if I did, I would say it. Of what use is 'it for you to keep struggling, do you aik? Of what use will it be for you to stop? Tell me that? Why, you can die, at least. I deny it: you cannot die. You may pass out from your present habitation, but you cannot die; and if you pass thence before the work that has been assigned you is accomplished, what then? God knows, and the future will reveal it; I cannot. It is easy to talk, say you, but to what does it amount? I know it is, my friend, and if talking would dispel clouds, would scatter gloom, what a bright world we should have how quickly the slightest mist of sorrow would vanish! But the poet says, : How oft the laughing brow of joy The sickening heart conceals." Bah! Poets should know better than to sing such stuff. They should soar above the earth-bound fogs DISCOURAGED. 37 and mists that envelop comm'on mortals; they should become so etherealized as to feel no weight of care while hymning the praise of cheerfulness; and instead of battling with despair, when faith and hope are thle themes of their inspiration, they should fiighten the monster to death with one of their gifted smiles. [Hun- ger and cold should fl firom the magic touch of their dainty fingers like dew before the summer sun. They should say to neglect and scorn, "Pass by, I heed ybu not;" and to Penury's meagre train, "Come on; your threats I brave." Yes, they should say all this, and 'feel it, too; but such is the perversity of human nature that we ask for 'bread " to mingle with the . word ,that proceedeth from the mouth of God;" and when darkness comles upon us like clouds in the morning, or thick darkness like the pall of night, we fear that it will not be given tus When told that "The clouds we so much dread, Are big with mercies, and shall break With blessings on our head,;" we point--to the scattering drops that have been licked up, almost, before they reached the thirsty earth, :and to the clouds which return rafter the rain - to the chill- ing winds and biting frosts - to the empty garner and' the empty purse. Strange, is it ntt, that we should think of such things? tI- 1 page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] 38 MAY WEED BLOSSOMS. LIGHT IN DARKNESS. FROM off the couch of darkness, Where morning bade them rest, Arose Night's frowning shadows, And hastened to the west, To quench the sunset glories That lingered on their way, As if they would assure us Of a returning day. I stood and watched their progress, Stood 'neath the falling dew, And saw Night draw her curtains, Curtains of sable hue, Before the scenes of nature, That were 'my heart's delight, And thought it was an emblem Of my own5spirit's blight. Then, as the past, came looming Before my tear-dimmed eye, Still darker grew the shadows Across my mental sky, - Grew -darker still; in anguish, I turned to seek relief, By weaving into song-wail A record of my grief. But as I wrote, a something Seemed saying in my ear, i "GHT IN DARKNESS. 39 "Why should you thus be helping To make life's pathway drear? Hath not each heart of trial Enough that is its own, That you should add the burden Of griefs which you have known? "O, cease to ponder only Upon each cloudy day, And think how much of sunshine Has lighted up youn way I When God his love dis'loses In thousand varied forms, Will you receive the roses, And scatter only thorns'?" "O, what to me is sunsh ne?'9 My wayward heart irplied, "That into night has fd-d, Or roses that^Wit e died? What cares the weary traveller That there has been a day, When thlrough the thickening shadows He gropes, to find his way?" And then I turned me sadly Again upon the night- To gaze, as on an emblem Of my own spirit's blight, When, lo! where I had fancied A brow of ebon hue, page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] 40 M YWEED BLOSSOMS. Ten thou and gems are gleaming From yonder concave blue. Were gleaming, softly gleaming, And with their gentle light, They pierced the thickest darkness That veiled my spirit's night, While through the breaking shadows Remembered blessings shone,- ' For'Night was still an emblem, Though now a glorious one. o. i "FE. THE visible evidence of an invisible God, - the breath of his nostrils., - the beating pulse that tells of his con- tinued existence,- a spontaneous effoit of his begetting power, -an artery filled from the Heart of hearts,-- a stream from an exhaustless fountain, -a perpetual out- flowing from the ever-living, ever-moving, everywhere- present Deity, -from the All in all -the GOD. ,i IITE MTIS TAtIEN VINE. 41 THE MISTAKEN VINE. ONCE upon a time there stood, upon the banks of a marshy stream, a young and thrifty vine. The time had come when she could no longer sustain the accu- mulated weight of her own growth, and the question arose as to vllere she should seek for the needed sup- port. Upon the left, close upon the borders of the marsh, was an Labundance of shrubs and weeds, some of but a; year's growth, and some of longer standin-; on the right, and but a few rods distant, stood a stately oak. The oak looked kindly down upon the youthful vine, and said, "Come to me; your graceful foliage shall be a wreath of beauty about my rugged trunk, while I lift you high above thd earth, into heaven's broad sunlight; you shall rest securely upon my branches, and together will we listen to the notes of the aerial songsters that come to rfefresh themselves 'from your pendent clusters." But the inhabitants of the marsh said, "Nay, why, should you leave your friends for a stranger? Some of us rejoiced at your birthl and others have since come to admire your beauty; we all love you, apd why should we be separated? To be sure, we are small as yet, but, like you, we are in the mdrning of life, and while the oak, that has seen so many years, is going to decay., we shall be flourishing in the vigor of our -prime. , Come, then, let us grow together, and cement the friendship so happily begun. The vine, thus harangued, looked thoughtfully from page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] 42 MAA YWEED BLOSSOMS. one to the other, and thus communed within herself: "I should like to sit, like a queen, upon yonder oak; bit I do not like the idea of crawling on the ground to reach it, and then to climb so far, with nothing but that rough, rugged trunk to twine about: the very thought of it is shocking. But then, to unite myself with those jlow bushes would be quite too bad.. I ought not to. think of it for a moment, and yet they are really grow- ing very fast. Who knows but they may become as high as the oak in the time it would take me to crawl thither and climb to its -branches, and by continuing with them, I shall thus' save myself all this humiliation and toil." e ' Delighted with this pleasing conclusion, the vine reached forth her tendrils, and clasping them around her, professed friends, agreed to cast in her lot with theirs. Time passed oni; the broad-leaved luxuriance of the thrifty vine nearly hid her supporters from siglit; only here and there a sprout, more vigorous than the rest, or requiring less room, found its way upward. Autumn came, and the heavy clusters bowed the frail reeds nearly to the earth. Mutual recriminations took place. The vine complained that, instead of being sus- tained, as she had a rioght to expect, her fruits were constantly ill danger of being destroyed by the four- (, footed beasts that went that way. And the bushes said, "It is all your own fault; you hide from us the light of heaven, leaving us to pine for its vivifying influence, and then load us with a'burden intolerable to be borne."' But their murmurings were of short duration; for a thirsty herd of lowing kine came thither in search of water, and together they were trampled into the mire, THE MS TAKEN VINE. 43 the beautiful clusters being crushed beneath the broad hoofs. In the mean time the son of the thrifty farmer com- plained that they had not land enough, and wished his father to purchase more. "But whyshould we do this," replied the thoughtful sire, "when much that we now have remains uncultivated? The bed of yonder stream can be straightened and deepened, thus making acres that are now useless not only tillable, but of a superior, quality?" The marsh was accordingly, cleared; its shrubs and brakes, together with the vine, gathered into heaps and burned. But while they were exterminated, the roots of the vine remained, and life was strong within. Again she sent forth her branches, and again she bent beneath her own weight; but having learned that "humility is before promotion," and "a haughty spirit before a fall," she bowed herself ihumbly to the earth, and, regardless of the invitations of others, made her way towards the oak; patiently she ascended 'the rugged trunk, till at last she sat like a "Crowh of Glory," a Diadem of Beauty," upon the topmost boughs. "N the long, unmeasured ages, Given to the different stages, In Progression's onward scale, There is hope for each and hope for all." r* - page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] " IMAYWEED BLOSSOMS. PROGRESSION. AND yet another day has come; Another day of joy and gladness To many a happy heart and home - To many more it bringeth sadness; For 'tis the self-same light That giveth to our sight The sparkling eye and rosy cheek, Of health and happiness that speak; And the maniac's form, whose pulses beat With fierce and fevered madness. Another day so like the past, That bitter it may bring, or sweetness; Full well we know it cannot last, -For while we pause, its airy fleetness Hath borne it quite away- 1- 1 That new-born dying day. Even now, upon night's ebon car, The pale-faced moor has come from far, And with her many an evening star, Its exit hence to witness. And thus they haste, both day and night, Like messengers in swift Succession, Still crying in their rapid flight, "Trust not, O, mortal, the possession Of joys that come and pass, Like sands within the glass; TIIE LOVE OF GOD. 45 I But calmly view each checkered scene With spirit undisturbed, serene, Knowing that nought can intervene Betwixt thee and progression." THE LOVE OF G OD. AN ocean replete with forms of creation, So radiantly bright in their soft emanation, That diamonds of earth grow pale at the sight, Are lost in the depth of its beauty and light. An ocean, whose waves are rolling forever, So wide and so high, we can measure them never; So peacefully still, that its on-flowing tides Disturb not a mote on its bosom that rides. An ocean infinitude glories to call, Broader and deeper and richer than all; An ocean that Deity bids us to prove, Eternal, essential, unchangeable love. An ocean that hath neither bottom nor shore, From which those that drink shall thirst never more; Whose life-giving waters continually rise, To meet new creations with endless supplies. page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] " IMA YWEED BLOSSOIMSS. "STEN. I SAW thee last night, sweet sister, but not as thou now art;- the rosy cheeks, and rosebud lips that I kissed so passionately, were those of long, long ago. Even when thy brothers and sisters, proud of the beauty of the youngest darling of the household, took turns in placing thee against the wall,-and then stelped back for thee to come .tottling, falling into their arms, amid shrieks of childish laughter, while our mother sat watch- ing us with the, fond loving pride of her maternal heart. Sweet sister, never shall I forget when I first took thee from our mother's arms, a deWdlrop froip the skies, the breath of heaven fresh upon thy velvet cheek. Ah, thou wert a very rosebud, the last of- our domestic sum- mer! For the frosts of death came all too soon, and the parent stein withered beneath its touch. Then. they took the pillow from thy head, even thy mother's bosom, and thee from us; then we were scattered' like leaves of autumn before the breath of poverty. Yes, we were scattered, and now I see thee only in dreams, but never will the Sweet prattling of thine in- fant years ibe erased from thy sister's heart; and though our paths on earth are widely separated, a motler's eve is looking from the heavens upon us. A mother's yearn- ings mingle with those of the great Infinite Heart over dal the dear ones left behind, and we hope to meet a united family in heaven. e SIIO WERS. 47 SHOWERS. "ET others sing of bright sunshine, Of richest fruits and flowers, I choose another theme for mine,- I sing the gentle showers: The rain, the crystal drops that come In myriads from their airy home, That they may aid in giving birth To all that springeth from the earth. There's many a glittering gem that shines Upon earfii's bosom fair, And deeply hid within her mines Are jewels, rich and rare; But is there one to vie with these, Suspended from the dewy trees? These clusters on each lovely'flower, Left by the welcome summer shower? \i I O, beautiful the robe which spring Flings o'er this world of ours, I:, And bright-eyed summer comes to bring Her coronal of flowers! X!' nAnd autumn, from his garner, yields - -6 Abundance to the wide-spread fields; But fruitful fields we seek 'in vain, Or robe, or flowers, without the rain,. page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] 48 MAY' WEED BLOSSOMS. The glorious sun, with gladness sheds His light from out the skies, And flowerets from their lowly beds, As if'to meet him rise; And every shrub and pllant that grows, Hastens its beauty to disclose; But brighter still will they look up With rain drops in each tiny cup. Then let it come, the gladsome rain, To beautify the earth; Yes, let it come, again, again, For who can tell its worth! But, Father, when thou sendest showers Tof'uctify 'this world of ours, Remember that our hearts will prove Barren without thy showers of love. MY GOD, MY HEAVEN, MY ALL. I WAS walking along the streets one pleasant morn- ing, when I saw an awkward-looking, coarsely-dressed boy crossing the Common at a little distance. He was singing. At first I couldl not distinguish the words, but my involuntary thought was "some vulgar rhyme, no doubt." I had been particularly grieved that morning by the naughty conduct of one who was dear to me, and my feelings were running in rather a sad channel, M Y GOVD, MY LEA VEN, MTY ALL. . 49 and I followed out those feelings by proceeding to nourn over the evil effects of such coarse and often deeply impure rhyming, when the words "My God, rmy heaven, my all, fell distinctly on my ear. He thad paused, and was looking down into a pond of water which stood in the centre of the Common, but he continued his singing, and seemed to dwell almost unconsciously on the words, "My God, my heaven, my So I but safely reach my home, My God, my heaven, my all." I had heard them hundreds of times, but never did they sound half so sweetly as now. Those few words from that poor ignorant chld that undeveloped image of the Deity- were to me like the song of an angel, or like the voice of the great Father speaking through mortal lips, saying, "Fear. not, for I am with thee; be not dismayedt for I am thy God." Yes, he was my God, my heaven, and my all. I had started to my day's labor, looking within upon my own sad thoughts, instead of without where the sun- light lay, like the smile of love over all the force of nature; but the words that I had heard touched a new chord in my heart, and it thrilled to the hidden har, monies within - harmonies which gushed forth to neet the spirit of gladness thait was abroad in the earthL I now felt that I could walk and not be weary, could 'run and riot faint, in the patlh that was marked out for me; yea, as though I could mount up as on the wings of eagles, to meet that God who was "my God, my heaven, my all," and not only mine, but of every suf- fering son and daughter of earth. 4 page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] 50 MA EED BLOSSOMS. SUMMER'S COMNG. SUMMER'S coming, bright-eyed summer, Wreathed about with fruit and flowers- Bringing grain to fill our garners, Giving songs from green-leaved bowers. From that bright and distant Aiden, Where our future days repose, She is coming, heavy laden With the blessinga God bestows. She will scatter -0, how gladly! - Those rich blessings all abroad, Tokens of the loving kindness Of our Father and our God. She will kiss the ripening berries Till'they blush Ia crimson hue; While from flowerets that she weareth Hurmming bees sip honey dew. She will bid the coming harvest Haste its heart-life to unfold, While the tintings of her pencil Make it look like waves of gold. She will shake her clustering ringlets O'er the broad-leaved fields of corp, 'Till the growing ears shall glory In the tresses she has worn. t e' MJARRIAGE AND GENIUS. 51 She will wander by the streamlet Where the branches twine above, And the happy little birdlings Sing of innocence and love. O, she bringeth joy and gladness As a crown to heart and home; Very soon she will be with us, She is coming, coming come. MARRIAGE AND GENIUS. SOMEBODY says that "all women, whatever their at- tainments, have a yearning desire to love and be loved again; that the head cannot be educated at thd expense of the heart, and that if they cannot obtain such as they can most venerate and respect, they unite themselves to such as tender them the love they have the need of: they dream of happiness, and awake to disappointment." . .Not alone are women of genius thus unhappy; \ men suffer too, from ill-assorted marriages." "Men suffer, too!"Well, why shouldn't they? Are they so'complete in themselves that they can do without love? Are they a whole, and we only a part, that must be attached to them, ere we can survive? Have they no hearts, no longings for affection? Woman may suf- fer, - I sometimes think she is made for suffering, - but deliver me from the anguish'of a truly noble-hearted \i page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] 52 n. iIMA YWEED BLOSSOM1S. man, who finds that his, affections are misplaced, his tastes unappreciated. But must it always be thus? Is there no remedy for the ill-assorted selections, the wretched mistakqs that are made here? Is there nothing to satisfy the longing for companionship, that is a characteristic of the race? Believe it not. "In that world they neither marry nor I are given in marriage," is the language of the Nazarene; but shall there be no union of congenial natures com- patible with this declaration? Is not the soul, so to speak,:separated into, two, each incomplete without the other? and if divided lhere, will they not, when freed from th body, be drawn together by mutual attraction, and clasping in an eternal embrace, be henceforth essen- tially ani inseparably one? If to be perfect and com- plete is necessary to unmingled happiness, why may not this union be an ingredient in the cup of heavenly bliss, and the ylant of it add to the sorrows of tlose who have not, as yet, entered into the fruition of lifee? Tell mne, ye who have felt this unsatisfied longing, if the prospect of bearing,it about with you forever would not, of itself, be sufficient to insure misery? But rejoice, ye that trust in the wisdom of the In- finite; ye that believe he will meet the wants of your entire being. He created you as you are, and will not i annihilate what he has created. If pIerverted, He may cleanse, as it were, by fire; but your wants shall be met, and your longings for compan- ionship abundantly satisfied, for in Him is fulness of joy, and at His right hand are pleasures forevermore. i, SPIRIT UNION. 53 SPIRIT UNION. TH:E mantle of evening is falling O'er earth's weary bosom a while; Each mate to its loved one is calling, "O, come and rejoice in my smile." While they to their rest are repairing, My thoughts shall be given to thee,. For distance prevents not my sharing The love that is life unto me. Thy soul is conversing with mine, love, - I feel that thy presence is here; As soft as the voice of the ringdove, The spirit tones fall on mine ear. The ear of my soul they are thrilling With cadences soqthingly sweet, My being with happihess filling And making my heaven complete. O, happy am I in possessing, Thy love, though they deem me alone;: How sweet is the spirit's caressing, They dream not, who never have known. Though distance and time may divide us, Or death roll-its billows between, - Whatever on earth may betide us, My spirit waits calmly serene. page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] 54 : 54 - MA YWEED BLOSSOMS. For well do I iknow that when ended The days of my sojoirn below, My soul with its own shall be blended, And thus through eternity go. Then blest be the pinions that bear us Swiftly on to the evergreen shore, And welcome the grief's that prepare us For love that shall fade nevermore. For love is the living pulsation Whose currents magnetically flow Out, outward to all of creation, Till all things exult in its glow, Spirit with spirit still may blend With yet a bar between, E'en as the sun will warn the earth, Though clouds should intervene. But there are hours, sweet painful hours, When soul with sense is dealing, That sturdy will must shut the gate Upon the tides of feeling. And ne'er to be forgotten times, When every spoken word Falls lightly on the listening ear Like tones of mocking bird; For though we strive most earnestly To shadow forth the real, We know how utterly we fail To paint the soul's ideal. Is SA NCfTIFIC4 TION. 55 i i SANCTIFICATION. ISOME people seem to have imbibed the idea that chil- dren and young folks have but few serious thoughts. This I consider a great mistake. I do not believe that I am so different from others; but in looking back upon my early years, I sometimes , and sometimes feel indignant, as the retrospection brings to mind the world of anxiety, the absolute mental torture that a false theol- ogy inflicted upon me. When I was some four and a half ye'ars of age, a minister told me of Jesus who died on a tree for little children like myself, and said I ought to love him. "I do love him," I replied, in the sim- plicity of my 'heart, for the story of his goodness won me at once. The following summer, if I remember rightly, I learned ;to read in the Testament, And there it said that Jesus died on the cross. Now here was a puzzler. The preacher said a tree, the, book said the cross; how to reconcile the two I knew not, for I had not the most distant idea that it was possible for big folks or books to be mistaken, or tell stories; only 1 ctareless, bad girls, like myself, could be guilty of either. W1 hat did it mean? I dared- not ask, for I never heard these tlings spoken of only by the preacher, and the book, both so commanding my reverence that I feared to question; and how my little brain used to ache in trying to solve the problem! From this time forth I was in constant trouble. The wonderful stories told in I[ tthe book mn:de a vivid impression upon my 'ssceptible mind, and what the preacher Baid of the certainty of ,;/ l .' page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] 56 MAA YWEED BLOS,SOMS. death for all, and of hell for those who did not love and serve God, drove me nearly wild at times. But it is only the old story, only what thousands have experienced, and I will not dwell upon it; suffice it; to i' say that when a little past fourteen, I fell in with a pro- tracted meeting, and was counted with the converts, I Yes, I thought I had got religion; but my mind being progressive, I had no idea of standing still; I must go ahead. The command, "Be ye holy, for I am holy," arid the like, were they not in the Bible? and being there, were God's word; and, as he would not command what we could not obey, it was plainly mly duty to make the above practical. In a word, sanctification was pos- sible; it was for me, and I must obtain it, or fall short of my duty as a Christian. Honest conclusion; but how should [ reach the desired ultimate? To be con- sistent, or not to be; that was tHe' question. Some three fourths of a mile away from my home lay Lake Erie, to be reached by crossin\r meadow after meadow belonging to the rich man on whose farm we were but poor tenants; and close along tfie bank of the rock- bound shore grew a few blueberry bushes. One day, as I went in search of this, my favorite ' fruit, my mind was particularly exercised on this same subject, sanctification. Several months had passed since I had professed religion. I had become weary of the sinning and'repenting, and my heart longed for rest; if I could only get the blessing I sought, of course all would be peace. At length, after a strange process of , reasoning, resolving, and faith, I psychologized myself into the belief that I had actually obtained it. True, I !li did not feel the rapture I had expected, but I had done . i1 TIlE HEAliTt AND TIlE HEART.? 57 what I could - I had given up all, and as His promises were "yea, and amen," it were sin to doubt, and so there was peace, and I tried to exult in that peace, but it was only trying. Blueberries, were scarce, so I made up my mind that I must take them all home, and that it would be wrong for me to eat even one; but after a while I found my hand going to my mouth with a very large one between my fingers. I checked myself in time, hqwever; soon the process was repeated, again, and yet again, till finally the tempting berry slipped down my throat, and away went my sanctification. 'From'that day fo this I have never been able to find it again; but sometimes my mind goes back to that long strip of meadow, to the 'blue waves beating against forty feet of perpendicular rock, and to the struggle between sanctification and the big blueberry, in which the latter came bff triumphant. THE HEARTH AND THE HEART. O, COME, let us gather Round the hearthstone to-night; We heed not the weather i When the fire burns bright, And loved ones hasten To bask in the light I That beams from the hearth And the heart. . .' 1dit page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] 58 MA YWEED BLOSSOMS. Here's a seat for our father; Who so kindly as he? And one for our mother, With her babe on her knee; While sister and brother, In innocent glee, Add light to the hearth And the heart. The father is smiling Upon the loved throng; The mother beguiling Her babe with a song, And lovingly checking Each movement of wrong, Thus guarding the hearth v And the heart. The light of the hearthstone - The warmth of the love That gathers around it, O, may it e'er prove A lamp to our feet, If we're tempted to rove From that God-given home Of the heart. CHILDREN NEVER PAY FOR TH'EIR RAISING. 59 \ \ CHLDREN NEVER PAXY FOR THEIR BRINGING UP. AH i! and whose fault is it, if they do not? Did they thrust themselves upon you, thus forcing you to provide for them against your wills? Has their coming been a dreaded, instead of a looked and longed for event? Be this last as it may, it is certain that they have only come at your call; and if you have called froni the lower instead of the higher plane of your natures, then God pity you, and them also, for the suffering that is thus brought'upon you both. "Children do not pay for their bringing up." And what recompense are you seeking, poor earth-bound mortal? Must you be paid in dollars and cents for bearing the burden of God's greatest blessing? Have your hearts become so stultified that the trusting confi- dence of their loving natures is of no value to you? Why, children are our guardian angels! To how much of good have they stimulated us, and from how much of evil have they kept us back? Some of us are so selfish in our very natures, that I sometimes think we should dry up and blow away were it not for the de- mnands children make upon us. But here comes another, who says, "Wlien our chil- dren are small, they lie heavy on our arms; but when they are large, they lie heavy on our hearts." Alas, that this should ever be true! But is there not a cause? Had they held a larger place in your hearts ere they came to your arms, would not the result * 6 And, .; page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] 60 MA Y tED BLOSSOMS. have been different? Had you been as careful in laying the foundation of being as you are in laying the founda- tion of your dwellings, would the rearing of the super- structure be so difficult a task? That we do not gathler grapes of thornsg?or figs of thistles, is as true in onDe department of Goias kingdom as in another; and tho e who sow to the widi must not complain if they reap the whirlwind in re6trn. The fountain must be cleansed ere the streams can be pure. Study the laws of .your own being, and live in accord- ance therewith, and you will no more have occasion to say that children never PaY for their bringing u); will no more find that their maturer years bring to your yearn- ing hearts a burden too intolerable to be ;borne, for Na- ture's laws are just and equal--they are God's laws, and their fulfilment can never result in positive evil. THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. "BEINGS of birth celestial Walk the earth, both when we wake And when sweet sleep restores Our wasted strength." And where Their feet have pressed, buds spring To life; there, 'neath the genial warmth Tleir 6breath bestows, expand \ To beauteous flowers, on which In hues most delicate Is stamped an outer image Of their angel life. * GLIMPSES. 61 GLIMPSES , ' Of that which, lying deep, sonetimes comes rolling upward on the surging crest of feeling's wane, catches the sunlight till 'tis pho- tograpled, then disappears." "AND bitterly I thought Of the meeting and the parting, Of the tear unbidden starting, Of the heartstrings wrung, Yea, and broken o'er andlo'er! Till I vowed, by God above, That from henceforth I would love I Nevermore And so farewell! For death nor hell, Nor the sweet heaven sometimes given In arms like thine, Shall temipt me henceforth never! Farewell forever.!" ' So sang the maid, but still loved on. The sun may hide behind a cloud, But its own ligiht makes it a sun. "Talk not to me of barriers," shecried; "The love that would not wade Through hell itself to gain its object, Is not love." And yet there was a barrierl From which she turned aside: It was a heart, a tender human heart; On this she must, withcrushing firmness, , page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] 62 MAYWEED BLOSSOMS. Plant her foot, or fail. With folded hands she turned aside, Forgetting all, or so it seemed. "Alone when the morning shineth, Alone when the moon is bright, Alone when the sun deciineth, Alone in the hush of night! O, God! is there no comfort For the sad and lonely heart? Must it be wrung with yearning Till it in sunder part?" Thus sang a voice of'wailing sadness, Till, sinking into mournful silence, Another voice responsive came: "Ah, yes, it must be broken- But not the trusting heart; 'Tis only that which holds it, That must in sunder part. The heart of the rosebud pineth I In darkness yet a while, Pines till its own expanding Catches the sunlit smile g That gladdens everywhere; Escaping its own darkness, Light shineth everywhere - Yes, light is everywhere. Then pine, soul, till you learn it- - That God is everywhere No more, no more alone, For God is everywhere." No more that heart in sadness i i POETR f. 63 Wails forth its misere, For by its own expanding It finds its jubilee, It finds that it is free. We have met and we have parted; V We may meet on earth no more; But when we have crossed the river, When we reach that shining shore, We shall surely know each other By the memories of yore; We shall meet and we shall mingle In the memories of yore. POETRY. EARTH, air, and sea are full of its spirit, and so are all human hearts. Their hidden fountains are replete with its untold beauties; but often they lie so deep that the arrows of affliction must penetrate to the very core ere they caim come forth to the embrace of that which is without, thus begetting " thoughts that breathe, and words that burn," beautiful embodiments of brighter ideas. Beautiful embodiments! yet tinged too often with a spirit of sadness from the unlealed wounds through which they have escaped into freedom. page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] " AMA YWEED BLOSSOMS. "A CHORUS OF ANGELS." ONCE upon a time, a man of large heart and noble charity, who had succeeded in rescuing a lost one from the haunts of degradation, was speaking of the trials through,which he passed in accomplishing that work of love. "It was a hard place," said he, "but I shrank not, and when it was over, a chorus of angels would have been discord to the music that was singing in my soul;" and to-night I can say the same. Angels of light, my soul leaps with joy as I clasp your loving hands, and ask, "What am I, that I should be made the :gent of loved ones gone before, in the mission of love and justice?" Music singing in my soul! O, these singing birds of harmonic rhythm! birds that are cagedl till the sharp, grating file of affliction grasps away the bars behind which they sit in silenpe, and then with quivering wing and open throat, they pour forth such volumes of ecstasy, that we ask, where is the place of sorrow, and whither hath she fled? "Through tribulation deep, the way to glory lies;" j but when we reach the gloiy, we forget the tribulation, or remember it only with the exceeding thankfulness ?J! that wonders at being honored with the draught of puri- fication which alone could fit ys for joys so heavenly. Blessed mission! Mediums, mediators between those in the form, and those'who have lIft it; bearing the j cross -wearing the thorns -drinking the wormwood j :.DI I A CHORUS OF ANGELS. 65 and the gall - tonics for the soul, making it vigorously erect to bear the exceeding weight of glory that shal come after. i Blessed mission to sustain the weak, to lift up the fallen, to 'feed the hungry, to clothe the naked, to have the delsire to do this, trusting the angels for the means and the opportunity, having respect unto the Iecompense of reward," that comes welling up fronm the innermost soul-depths, saying, "They are saved! they are saved!"Thanks, O, ye angels! ye dear ones, whose hands I have clasped, and whose lips I have pressed in the earth-life; thanks for making me your agent, your unworthy but rejoicing instrument of good. And yet-ye come, and through mortal lips ye thank mne for what I have done, for what I could kiss your very feet in the proud humility of exaltation for the blessed privilege of doing. With an angel mother's arms around me, and her breast to lean upon, with an angel brother lover, friend to clasp my'hand, and shower thrillig kisses upon lips and brow, why should I fear to enter into the very blackness of the Valley of Shadows, in ordeP to lead fortl those who have lost their way amid * its wildering mazes. - "Could I meet with the angels, I'd sing theml a song," 'Twas thus I sung, long years ago. I have met with the angels, and my soul is singing its song. 5 , ' ; , I ' ' page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] " MAYWEED BLOSSOMS. i SLEEPING IN THE SUNSHNE. f SEE the maiden in the valley, Sitting in the sunshine, Pleasant sunshine, J Of a bright autumnal day; While the clouds that float in heaven Make the sunshine all the brighter, - Make the sky a d(eep)er blue,- And the maiden never heedeth When the sun withdraws his shining, As behin&i a cloud lie hideth; For the veil is so transparent, , That his face, but not his presence, From her landscape is withdrawn. Now the clouds are growing darker, And a (chill is on the air, . j! While the wind is swiftly rising, Like the breathing of the tempest, As he cometh from afar; But the maiden in her dreaming, She is heeding not the change, For the soothing of the sunshine, It hath lulled her into sleeping, . Lulled her into quiet sleeping, And she heedeth not the change. But the bursting of the thunder, And the lightning's vivid flash,- - 1z)I SLEEPING IN THE SUNSHNE. 67 It will wake her when it cometh, - Ay! it cometh, And the maiden springs in terror,- Springeth from her grassy couch; But the storm is now upon her, And the torrents are a pouring Down the hills into the valley, Cutting off for her escaping, And the maiden That was sleeping in the sunshine, Pleasant sunshine, In the storm is overwhelmed. See the maiden in the valley, Sitting in the sunshine, Sweetest sunshine, Of a warm and trusting love; In the sunshine of his presence, His, the chosen of her heart. In the sunshine of his presence, Made more bright by days of absence, That like clouds would intervene: Clouds they are, but still, illumined, For his spirit so pervadeth All on which the maiden looketh, That the sunshine fiever seemeth From her presence to withdraw; J Wlile in blindness she is yielding Reason's self into his keeping, Deeming not that he can err. Days of absence growing longer, With a chill upon them cast, page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] 68 " MAYWEED BLOSSOMS. For the smiling of another Draweth now the pleasant sunshine, Draweth it to hold it fast; But the maiden, in her dreaming, She is heeding not the change, For the firmness of his premise Hath aQ soothed her into trusting, That her fears are all a sleeping, And she heedeth not the change. But the truth will burst upon her Like the rolling of the thunder, Like the scathing of the lightning, And 'twill wake her when it cometh, Ay, it cometh! And the maiden, wild with terror, Sees the ruin that is sweeping Like a whiilwind down upon her; Sees the scirn that's ever given, - Given to those who trust so blindly; Down in torrents coming, coming, Pouring down on every side, And the maiden, Who was sleeping in the sunshine, Love's lsweet sunshine, Wakes to ruin and despair. Ay, the thoughtless, tiusting maiden, In the flowery vale of life, Of the sleepers in the sunshine, She is not the only one. See, with folded hands they're sitting; ANGEL WHISPERINGS. 69 Laid aside their oars of watching, While their barks are idly floating, Floating onward with the tide: For the calm reveals not danger, But so lulls them into sleeping, That they wake not till the tempest Is upon them in' its fury, And the roaring of the breakers Tells them 'tis too late to flee, - Tells them that the calm of sunshine Was not given for sleeping. ANGEL WHSPERINGS. I AM glad, I am glad, for the dawning of the morn- ing breaks upon thy spirit; the shadows are fleeing. away, and soon shall the rising sun proclaim the reign of the night at an lend. I have watched the pathway of thy progress with all the interest that my soul could feel in that which was as dear to me as my own life, even thy success; and as I see the time drawing nigh for the brightness of its earthly fruition to show itself to others, as thou hast ever felt it in the depths of thy spirit, and as we have seen it froll the shores of the beyond, surely I may rejoice in the prospect, and share thy heart's gladney. A new era is rising, not only for thee, but for others that have waited, watched, and prayed. The answer to thy prayers tarriethi not, but hasteneth to crown thee with rejoicing., Thy star is page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] 70 MA YWEED BLOSSOMS. ' in the ascendency, and though a cloud flit across its disk, it cannot obscure the brightness of the glory that shall cause coming generations to call thee blessed; yea, most blessed, for thy flowers shall be unfading, while the thorns that have scratched thy bleeding feet shall be removed forever. But not yet; not quite yet ; the morning dawneth, but those who are in the valley can- not catch the first rays of sun as we can see it from the hill tops. It was thus, when my soul was sad, that the angels whispered their words of comfort, - "Blessed ministers of God's love! How ye lift the fainting spirit up, And bring to life the dead." MORNING CLOUDS. t, OLD ebon Night has placed her bars ' Across the path of Day, . ' 'Just as the little twinkling stars t 'Were hurrying away,- ' Were hurrying to place their light Beyond the day-king's searching sight, Lest he should scorn their milder gleam, And quench it in his own bright beam. ?Ni Heavy and dark agatiist the sky i , Forbiddingly they stood, 'll As if the powdr they would defy, n' f i Which pours its rising flood \ - I }I i [ MORNING CL OUDS. 7 Of light and life upon the earth, Awakening to a newer birth Each blessing that the God of heaven Hath to its mortal children given. But steadily the chariot wheels That bore the monarch came, Till rising o'er the eastern hills, Robed in refulgent flamne, He saw, tlat seized with mortal dread, Old Night had left her place and fled; Had fled, and never once appeared Behind .the breastworks she had reared. But there across his pathway stood, Till, in his living light, They seemed to be all turned to blood, And then they took their flight. Awy, as if possessed of life, ; They fled from the unequal strife, While fragments of reflected sheen ; Gave greater glory to the scene. Is it not thus in Error's night Before the coming dawn? ; r The sources that had given light Are, one by one, withdrawn; While thick against. the moral sky ,; The fiowning walls of falsehood lie, , ': And darkness, like a funeral pall; Seemeth on all our hopes to fall. I :?;S page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] 72 AA YWEED BLOSSOMS. But shall our doubting spirits take This as a reason why The cause (f truth we should forsake, Or deem that it can die? Shall we submit to doubts and fears, When knowing that eternal years Are given to sustain the right Against the marshalled hosts of night? God rules, and with unerring Whnd Arranges all below, Permits the wrong a while to stand, That by its overthrow The world may learn that he is just, Though patient with presuming dust, And truth the lovelier be seen, Contrasted with the works of sin. God rules, and such a glorious lighkt Shall fill our dnarlened earth, We shallforget there was a night,- That morning had a birth,- - iForget that e'er the cause of righlt Lay bleeding 'neath the heel of might, i Or shall remember to adore, ti Permitting wisdom yet the more. "Truth crushed to earth shall rise again." ( "GC1T. 713 "GHT. I "GOD said, Let there be light, and'there was light.' " Iow simple; how beautiful; how sublime! No coG1 uscations of eloquence to :herald in the mighty truth. They were not needed for that which could stand upon its own grandeur as its vital element. "Let there be light." Hearken! The chariot wheels of receding dark- ness are sounding like the voice of many waters, as the smile of Omnipotence fulfils his behest, by diffusing itself over the oceans of immensity. Light, the garmeht of God - the flowing robe whose hem we may touelh - the illimitable sea upon the bosom of whch we live and move and hlve our being, and thle undulations of the waves of which shall bear us onward in our progress from the lower to the higher, from the outer to the inner life. For within this garment, fit- tingly put on, there is a robe whose correspondence Jis to the eyes of the soul. Close thine eyes, O, mortal, and say there is no sun! Stop thine ears, and deny the possibility of sound; but wait till the last ray of' light is witlhdrawn from the eiarth ere thou darest to deny the existence of God' "And there'was lighlt." How it went rusling past the lifted curtain that hald held it from the face of the newhorn eartih,--how it sought out every nook and i corner, - every crevice where there was a possibility of ingress! And even so does that inner; that higher light seek to enter into and p)ervade our souls. Even so does it strive to penetrate its darkest corners, to illuminate page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] 74 MAYWEED BLOSSOMS. its deepest recesses; and it shall accomplish that where- unto it is sent, for the eternal years of God are given l for the exercise of its renovating power. REPLY TO POE'S RESURREXI.* THOUGHi on earth we had no meeting, I have heard your words of greeting, Words that come like rippling music, from that far off seraph shore, Telling of the' waves of gladness Sweeping o'er the lines of sadness, Traced upon thine earthly being, till it bled at every pore. Worlds that wake anew the yearning, Which within my heart is burning, For the blending of my being with some soul I can adore. i 'Tis an ever-restless yearning, Outward going, ne'er returning, As from the ark the raven wandering went in days of yore, ' Long I've watched for some sweet token, For some branch from olive broken, P, f * The Resurrexi can be found in Miss Lizzie Doten's first volume of poems. RE PLY TO POE'S RESURREXI. 75 Presage that the breath of heaven woke the earth' to life once more. Bult the dove, forlorn and weary, Comes from o'er the waters dreary, Telling that the ragingf billows rise above the highest shore. Draining here the cup of sadness, Till thy soul was stung to madness, While life's bitter burning billows swept thy burdened being o'er; From the bondage that enslaved thee, Thou hast found the love that saved thee, While I wander searching for it, searching, wandering evermore. Once methought thatt I had found it, Then I seized and quickly bound it To my heart more fondly, closely than I e'er had ought before; i But the viper turned upon me, Like a poisonous adder stung me, , Till the depth of love and trusting changed into a canker sore. Now I feel with life mismated, , Ofttimes feel accursed and fated, As the tides of desolation flood my being o'er and o'er, And I pray that life's poor token, Canker-eaten may be broken, Setting free the chafing spirit beating 'gainst its prison door. page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] 76 i1 MAYWEED BLOSSOMS. O, my earthborn spirit-brother, i Well I know there is another, - One to meet my spirit's yearning, one to love and to adore, Tell me, is my bright i;cal In the land where all is real??i Have you seen him? is he waiting, waiting on, the other shore? Have you ne'er, at morn or eve, Seen him from the gates of heaven, With a lover's eager footsteps, turning towards this mor- tal shore? Does he know my spirit's anguish, As in bondage here I lanuish, Strive the balm of consolation in my wounded heart to pour? Ah, he does! for heavy-laden, Sighing for that distant Aiden, For which weary ones are sighing, seeking, sighing evermore; Often times the light supernal, 1 Beaming in that home eternal, Flashes on lmy inner being, thrilling it at every pore. When the anguish, all unspoken, Of the spirit bruised and broken, Feeding on the soul and substance till it writhes in an- guish sore, j Is forgotten, till the raven . Memory plays the traitor craven,1 , And the briglit-hued bow of promise, I, for tears, can see aro more. , i' l ].!sm DR ENCIED. " But though storms and clouds surround me, Though in darkness they have bound me, Yet I know the sun is shining high above the tempest's roar, And I'l seek until I find it, Give of love till I can bind it, Like an amulet of safety to my heart forevermore. DRENCHED. YES, and pretty thoroughly too; wet to the skin, and all from imy own foolhardiness. Perhaps you would like to know how it came about! I will tell you. Long, long ago, -before we made our: home on the shore of Lake Erie, away back in my childhood years, -my parents lived on what was called the East Hill, in a certai 'county of the old Empire State. On the hill, but not at the top; for after going across the big meradow, across the pasture field, and full half the way acrss the bush lot, and all the way up hill, we came at length to where the blueberry bushes grew. O, the i delicious fruit with which they were loaded in summer and so abundant! It was before I was troubled with tlhe question of Sanctification; but even in that case, they were so plenteous, that I could have eaten my fill without injuring m1y Deace of mind. Well, I went one day with my little sister to my favorite resort, the very top of the hill, to gather ber- I ,? s , 1.i page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] 78 IMAYWEED BLOSSOMS. ries. Before we had been there long the clouds began to look black and threatening, and a few drops of rain foretold the cominig shower. I did not like the idea of going home empty basketed, but what should I do? go without accomplishing the object for which I came, or stay and get a shower bath? I finally concluded that I would do neither. I would break branches from the surrounding shrubbery, form a temporary shelter, gather all the well-filled blueberry bushes we could find han- dily, take them under this shelter, and pick the fruit from them at our leisure. Sister acquiesced, for she never thought of question--, ing my supertior wisdom, and so we went to work with a will. The shelter was prepared, the bushes broken off and brought thither for pickinc; and none too soon, for the few drops that had cone, and then held off, as if on purpose for us to escape, were now increased to a gentle shower. However, we huddled together in our house of refuge, and began to fill our baskets; I boast- ing, meanwhile, to pny silent auditor, who, while she tried to smile,. kept turning her blue eyes towards the intruding drops, for our shelter was rather leaky,-I boasting, however, that we were not going to be scared out; not we. But the rain fell tlicker and faster; courage waned, and water increased in'our little domicile, till finally courage took to her heels, and with little sister close behind, broke into a full run for home, Right through ' \ thehardest of the shower, down through the bush lot, i down through the pasture field; but by the time we reached the meadow it, had spent its force, and retiring I' in haste, left the liquid pearls it had flung so profisely TRUTIJ, LOVE, AND LIBERTy. 79 over field and forest to sparkle like diamonds in the sunlight. Beautiful, O, how beautiful the scene! But I was in no condition to enjoy it, for upon my head must fall the blame of not only my own condition, but that of my little sister's. You see I have never forgotten it; and I often wonder if there are not reformers who some- tiles brave public opinion as recklessly, provide for themselves as poor a defence, and retreat from the con- test as ingloriously as I did from my fortification in the blueberry field. TRUTH, LOVE, AND LIBERTY. Or workers we're a fearless band; One common cause unites us; Where hearts are joined, to join our hands For love and truth, delights us; * For love and truth bring liberty, - The freedom God hath given, And freedom, love, and truth shall make This earth like unto heaven. While other souls are drinking in The past with all its folly, We'll follow with the few who go Where truth and freedom rally; On, on to freedom, on, my friends, Stop at no wayside station, page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] 80 IMAYWEED BLOSSOMS. For/what are buds and blossomings dompared with full fruition? Hardships shall not our spirits shock; We know they lie before us, But standing firm upon the rock Of truth, her banner o'er us, We'll gladly meet the gathering hosts Of Superstition hoary; Her shafts can pierce us but to give A conqueror's crown of glory. For souls like ours can never, stand And. see their birthright riven, While dwellers in this'glorious land To Error's rule are given; Will ne'er permit the hosts of night To shut the gates of morning, To intercept the rays of light That, on us would be dawning. No; by' the truths already born, And by their birtl-throe's anguish, Though myriads of foes unite, Our cause shall never languish!! Through walls of adamant we'll pierce With truth, to cut asunder, Till those who are so fearful now Shall shout with joy land wonder. For God himself sustains the right I Against whate'er opposes, ' . i-' !' ) APPLES OF GOLD. 81 And through it to the sons of men His matchless love discloses; A love whose efforts cannot cease Till every cloud is riven, That hideth from the needy soul The light and life of heaven. APPLES OF GOLD. "Go- tell thy struggles and thy victories, Not as the conqueror tells, but as a friend Who fain would lift the sad, the fainting soul, That, sorely tried, but for such aid would sink." GOOD morning, Mrs. Cleves. . You see I have takel a friend's privilege of calling without ceremony." "Just as I wish you to do. It is pleasant to meet those we love, untrammelled by the restraints of fashion- able life." "And I shall use my privilege further, by asking, what you were reading?" O, 'tis one of Mary Irving's stories, with which I am much .pleased. Have you not read it? I believe you take the Journal?" "Mr. Hanson takes it on account of the business por- tion, weh he I thinks good ; but I cannot bother myself with such dry stuff, and I never read stories. I think the coloring- thrown over them gives one false views of life, unfitting the mind for every-day duties." 6 page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] 82 MA YWREED BLOSSOMLS. "Pardon me, Mrs. Hanson; but I could not help smiling to hear you plead for practical utility, and com- plain of the dryness of business details, in the same breath. I agree with you as to the importance of selecting such reading as shall best fit us for the duties we owe to ourselves and each other. That there is much written in the form of stories which is injurious, I acknowledge; but in this, as well as in other things, we can select the good and leave the bad. A truth illustrated by scenes from real life is certainly more powerful for g-good than the same .truth without the illustration; and there are facts enough upon which to base stories, and make them more interesting, more intensely thrilling, than any of fiction can be." "Then I have known but little of real life, for I have neverv seen much that could compare with the stories that are to be found in almost eveiy newspaper or periodical one takes up. As to the one of which you were speaking, I heard sister Mary read it, and I own it is well written; and had I ot felt, as ' always do when listening to such things, O O, it is all made ups; there is no truth in it,' it might have had some effect upon me." "I see no reason why it may not be true; Wd if not, is it not a good illustrations? Is there not a truth embodied therein which may thus find access to some heart, which could be approached in no other way?" "I think truth potent enough to do her own work without questionable aid. Do you not detract from her authority, when you represent her as seeking such means of success?" "Certainly not. As well might we think it detracted i 'A, APPLES OF COLD,' 83 from the wisdom of the Creator because he often uses the most simple things to accommodate himself to our understandings. But to return to Miss Irving's story. You will be surprised to hear, that it recalls most vividly some scenes in my own life." "In your life! Is it possible?" "It is not only possible, but actual. You have known me only in prosperity; and when you tell me how happy I always am, you little dream of the struggles through which I Ihave passed, - struggles so severe, that it makes me shudder even yet to think of them;, but they are over, and I have gained by the conflict." WiMy dear MArs. Cleves, you astonish me; but if it is not too painful a subject, will you be kind enourgh to give nce some account of the strutgles of which you speak?" "Certainly. The pleasure of gratifying you will more than compensalte for any painful emotions that may be awakened, thereby. And, indeed, I think it does me good to live again, at times, in the past. Poverty is associated with nmy earliest recollections. We never went cold, nor 'hungry; but our father had to strain every nerve to keep us firom becoming so, for he had nothing but what his hands earned from day to day, and our mother's health was such that she could do nothing to assist hiln. "Often have we staid at home from church for want of proper clothing; for much as we desired to attend, we could not go dressed so badly as to attract attention. I involuntarily looked upon those who could dress well, and live ia good houses, as better than those who could not; yet my heart rebelled that it should be so. t a, 1 I page: 84-85[View Page 84-85] 84 MAY WEED BLOSSOMS. I "You will smile when I tell you that my highest ambition was to own a white dress, to be able to teach school, and to make coats. I thought that if I could accomplish these objects, I should be as good as the best of them. "Never shall I forget the pride, with which I put on my new hat and cloak the fall before I was thirteen. I I had, with the help of the younger children, gleaned wheat for the first. To procure the means of purchas- ing the latter, I went three miles through the hot sun to gather blueberries; then took them about as far the other way to sell them ; added a little by selling grapes gathered with an equal amount of labor; knit socks and braided corn-husk mats for the remainder, the cloak costing the entire sum of five dollars. "I will pass over a few years, t- niy mother's death, my marriage with a comparative stranger, the bitter rueing of my haste, and the blighting desolation which bowed me to the very earth. Ildeed, you would as soon have looked for a tree that hadI been torn up by the roots, and left to wither in the scorh ling sun on a barren heath, to become green again, as Olr happiness to flour- ish anew in my heart. "Deceived, hearthroken, I walndered from place to place, supporting myself by hard labor a few weeks here and a few months there. I might have taught school, but I had lost all confidence in myself. Life seemed a great failure, and the constant cry of my heart was, ' What's the use?' I felt thateI was out of my sphere, yet knew notl how to find it. Water and oil could have mingled as easily as I could have entered into and become a part of that with which I was sur- l, 9 . Si * o * 'I APPLES OF GOLD. 85 rounded. I was constantly seeking society, yet ever alone; and I would gladly have sunk into annihilation, to escape from the unsatisfied longing which filled mv soul. ' "Well, after a winter of severe labor, that left me unable to do housework, I resolved to visit a while. I had but little ioney, but hoped to add to it from time to time with my needle. After spending a few months among my relatives, I resolved to visit an old friend who was attending school at Woodville. After spend- ing a few days here, I intended to visit the home of my childhood, but I was so charmed with the spirit of the place,' that I knew not how to leave it; it soothed my " wounded spirit like healing balm. I had never before seen such quiet happiness and such earnest effort. "I thought I should like to stay there forever; but what should I do? Why, I could study; but for what? O, to pass away time. Life had become a burden to me, and the lighter I could make that burden the better. I liked study, and I might as well do that as anything. "It was something new, to say the least; so I obtained a situation in a small family, did the work at 'small wages, and took half studies. I joined the Ladies' Literary Society, which, with my other duties, kept mie quite busy, and I was comparatively happy. Still I had no idea of using the knowledge thus obtained; as a person on the cars takes up a book, so did I take upl mine. "The lady with whoml I staid seemed to understand me better even than I understood mnyself; little by little she drew my history from me, and strove to awaken ,:i hope. She told me that my mind and my associations page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] 86 1 MAYWEED BLOSSOMS. had been at variance; that I pined for something dif- ferent from what I had ever found, and must not be discouraged if' the past had been a failure; that if I could not swim, it was no sign that I could not soar, if I would but plume my wings. "Reimlarks like these awoke my benumbed aspirations, and I thought that perhaps after a while I would try and do something; yet I was sure to put it off as far as possible; I w6uld stay and prepare myself for a long time. But my old feelings would often return, and I could give veint to my anguish only in floods of tears. In this manner I spent the fall and winter; but in the spring took full studies, and sewed for mly board, while the fhmily hired a good str nng girl, and boarded several students. I "But I soon found myself so reduced for clothing, that something must be done to replenish my wardrobe. Mrs. - )proposed teaching; but I shrank from the thought, and offered to do her work the next terhl, as the girl she then had was soon to leave, and she knew not where to get another. "She was a feeble women, and'needed some ore on whom she could rely, and I never dreamed of' a refusal. Judge then of my surprise, when she quietly but firmly said, 'No, there are enough who can do my work, who can do nothing else. You can teach, and you are needed in that capacity. 'Tis true I know not wao to get, but I shall find some one, and I shall not let you do it.' "This proof of disinterested friendship touched me deeply; it gave me courage to make the effort which proved the foundation of all the success that has since i ' t APPLES OF GOLD. 87 been mine. Those who, with feeble health, have to depend so much upon their kitchen help for the comfort of themselves and families, can best realize the scfice made for my benefit, in thus exchangin a certainty an uncertainty; for I can say, without boasting, that I was responsible help. "To some this might seem a matter of but little im- portance, but it was the hinge upon which great things have turned; at least for me; and surely the happiness of even one heart is no small matter. And how many others might be led from darkness to light, if those who i have the power to do, would show that they care for the interests of others as well as for their own. This lady was so circumstanced that she could not have rendered pecuniary aid, had she so desired; but she gave what was of greater value-the encourage- ment which enabled me to use my own resources. It is better to teachll one to walk than to carry them, though at the sinking point; as Miss Irving says, something may be needed besides words. Yet if there is a heart to do, an empty purse cannot prevent the accomplish- ment of much that is good in the way of blessing others. "That 'words fitly spoken are like apples of gold in pictures of silver,' is as true now as when it was first written; and could I speak to'eyvery suffering, strug- gling soul upon earth, I would say, 'Take fast hold of hope; let her not go, for she is thy life. T4ougli clouds intervene, hiding the sun from thy view, keep her lamp burning, and thou shalt yet emerge into the light of a glorious day."' . . . i; page: 88-89[View Page 88-89] 88 MAYWEED BLOSSOMS. THE FAIREST SIGHT. TRE fairest sight, do you ask, The fairest I have seen, As I've wandered o'er the mountains, Or by the rippling stream? The fairest sight, do you ask, The fairest to behold, As I've sailed upon the ocean, Or through the forest strolled? Prairie flowers are very fair, The forests,they are grand; Salubrious is the morning air That sweepeth o'er the strand. And proudly fair the goodly ship, With white sails brooding o'er The restless spirit df the deep, A warring with the shore. The birds upon the waving boughs, Beside the rolling stream, Are fair enough;, sing sweet enough, For Paradise, I ween. The valleys and he fragrant meads Seem set in beauty's mould; The azure hue of the western sky Changes to bu nised gold. - , , i, THlE FAIREST SIGHT. 89 The smiling stars come one by one To look upon the scene; And bright-eyed beauty sits and wails, Or1 seeks her douch to dream. The sunlight on the eastern hills, The cascade's glittering spray, The splendor of the noontide hour, The closing of the day. The mother bending o'er her babe, The father's beaming eye, And loved ones gathering round the hearth, When darkness veils the sky. O, these are sights full fair enough To fill an angel's dream; But still amnong them all is not The fairest one I've seen. The dying dayI God's trailing robe Upon the hill-tops lay, l When I beheld the fairest sight That e'er hath blessed my way. An agcdd man, with silver hair, And brow all wrinkled o'er, And children's children sporting round Upon the cottage floor,-- Rested head upon the knee Of her he chose for wife page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] 90 IMAY WEED BLOSSOM1S. Long years before, standing erect In I manhood's pride of life, And she, with gentle loving grace, Still threaded o'er and o'er These silver locks, with fingers that He'd clasped so long bef6re. Or rested them with love's caress Upon his aged brow, And this of all the sights I've seen, Was the fairest one I trow. For the faithful love of hoary hairs Is lovelier far to me Than rosy cheeks or sparkling eyes, ' Or youthfullvows can be. "OVE AND WISDOM. "OVE is the flower of wisdom; and. as the flower fadeth lvhen separated from, the ,stalk, even so doth the beauty of love change into that which hath no comeli- ness, if wisdom cease to'sustain and direct. h ' c' AMOONLIGJIT MUSINGS. 91 MOONLIGHT MAUSINGS. "O, the beautiful light 'That cometh at night, - When angel eyes Look from the skies, And we call them stars, While our listening ears Catch the faintest sound That floateth around, Fondly fancying That we hear the whispering Of the loved and the lost, Of those who have crossed - 'Death's sullen strcam, Who have gone before To that other shore, Of which we so often dream." IF there is ever a time when angel visitants are hov- ering over us, it is when the moon, with her countless train of stars, is magnetizing the earth with her softest, most attractive form of beauty. Who has not felt, on such a time as this, that the very air was redolent with heavenly odors,llwhile the entire being became so har- moniously still, so quietly sensitive, that we could almost hear the movement of ethereal wings, or feel the soft breath of our guardian spirits upon our cheeks. It was on such a night that the then youthful patriarch wars permitted to see the connecting link between earth and heaven; a link that has continued to this day, in spite of the efforts of ignorance and superstition to rend it in twain. Let qs avail ourselves for a moment of our God-given powers, and leaping backwards through page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] 92 MAYWEED BLOSSOMrS. the lapse of ages, plant our feet upon one of Judea's favored plains.. The sun has retired behind the distant mountains, and the shades of night are gathering slowly around, when a traveller from the land of the children of Ileth, weary and foot-sore with his journeyings, comes slowly up a rocky gorge sepaiating the adjacent hills, and looks anxiopsly around for some place of shelter. But no friendly habitation appears in sight; no dwelling reared by the hand of man, for he is the first of all his race who has penetrated these solitudes. But a grassy plot and a friendly stone soon furnish him with bed and pillow, and speedily he sinks into the repose of innocent tranquillity; meanwhile, a band of angels have issued from the gates of Paradise, and are hastening to their accustomed' trysting place on earth. As they descend, they behold, on the very spot their feet have so often pressed, a being in form like unto themselves, but clothed in garments of a different texture. This won- derful stranger is sleeping with one hand beneath his head, and the other lying where it had fallen after brushing from his forehead the locks that are now spark, ling with the dews of the night. For a while they gaze in rapt astonishment, and then hasten to tell the wondrous tale to their companions in light. Strai'htway a ladder is let down from heaven till its foot rests lclide the unconscious sleeper; and through the long watches of that eventful night were the angelic hosts ascending and descending thereon, while the God of his fathers stood at thb top, well pleased with the interest that was thus manifested in. this their earth brother. NA TURE. 93 93 But how- fared it with the sleeper? Did he know aught of the loving o, leepe Did he know aught of the lov ing wan g ones who thus surrounded him? Ah, yes! for their kisses have opened his soul's eyes, that he might see, and their whisperings have penetrated his soul's ears, that he might hear and un- derstand, while his whole being was filled withwonder at what was thus revealed. But the coming morn summons the sleeper from the inner to the outer life; the God of his fathers retires witlin the veil, and the ascending and descending hosts are no longer visible. Jacob arouses from his slumbers, and thinks that he has dreamed. O, blessed dreaming! O, holy tie between the interior and the eternal! If we would oftener shut the doors-of our souls, and enter into its secret chambers, we might still see the Father smiling tenderly upon us, and his willing ministers has- tening to bring niessages of truth and love. NATURE. THE visible expression of God's power, love, and wisdom, - the ever-present evidence of his omniscience, - omnipresence, and incomprehensibility. Study her laws if you would learn of their great Author; trust her unhesitatingly; for as a mother teaches her child to honor its earthly father, so will she teach us to rever- ence undcrstandingly Him who is tLe Father of all. . . .. page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] " IIAYWEED LL OS^0M1S. SUMMER RAIN. THROUGtOHOT the livelong summer day The scorching beams have come From burning sunl, and not g ray In passing cloud find home. The flowers that were the valley's pride Their languid forms display, While those upon the mountain side Have fainted quite away. The soil is parched, the streams are dry, The shrubs and trees complain; To quench their thirst from earth and sky They seek, alas! in vain. The little birds have ceased to sing, The beasts have hid away; Through Nature's realm each living thing Paiqts for the closing day. J It comes! Adown the western sky Behold Day's king descend, , While lingering glances from his eye With evening azure blend. The closing day brings in the night, With sombre, quiet grace, To guard us in our rapid flight Through circling fields of space. To guard us and to give us rest From toil and care a while, SUJMJER J A1N. 95 Secure from harlm, completely blest, Beneath her loving smile. But where, alas! the I)romlised hope Of rest beneath her'care, For earth herself must blindly grope Through suffocating :air. The Day-king's burning breath remains, And in his jealous pride He draws a curtain fromn earth's veins Night's glorious eyes to hide. The suffering earth, beneath her load, Is fainting, and her cry, So feeble that 'tis scarcely heard, Is answered from on high. The stormn-g6d mounts his thunder car, And hastens to the scene; Iis wratlhful eye is seen from far, By glancing of its sheen. Swift fly his fiery bolts to rend That misty veil in twain; Its shivered atoms, falling, blend With mother earth again. Down, doivn they come, these precious drops, From intervening veil; Brooks, valleys, hills, and1 mountain tops, - With joy their coming hail. And earth relieved, now sinks to sleep Beneath night's beaning eyes, Who will her loving vigils keep Until the morning rise. * ! page: 96-97[View Page 96-97] MA YWEED BLOSSOMS. And wilt thou, Father, thus disperse From off, our souls the shade - The mists of sin, the burning curse, That it for us hath made? ' When pride shall rob our souls, to rear To vanity a shrine, Wilt thou, in mercy, interfere And make us wholly thine? The dross. wiIt thou, with lightnings burn, Scatter the ill away, - Wilt let the good to us return, And with us ever stay? Then shall we rest, devoid of fear, Upon thy love and truth, Until the glorious morn appear That brings eternal youth. MOTHER, BABY. I WAS walking along the streets of a great city one pleasant afternoon, in one of those dreamy states of abstraction in which one almost forgets their own exist- ence, when the wV;rds "Mother, look at the baby!" fell on my ear, and arrested mry attention. I turned, and saw a boy of some ten summers leading the wee, toddling one by the hand, while the mother looked up from her work to bestow upon them that smile of love which none but a mother can give. "Mother, baby," I kept repeating to myself, as .1 passed on my way, trying to ascertain which gave forth the sweetest sound. It was an idle task, for both were so beautifully tender, - so united by mutual dependen- cdies that one could not exist without the other. The poet lhas said that "A babe in the house is a well- spring of pleasure."' If this be so, then, the -mother must be a fountain; yea, a fountain of the deepest joy that Heaven c'eri gave to earth. It was for this that she was created, and this she will become if inherited conditions and present surroundings are riht. A foun- tain of life, of love so deep, so wide, and so high, thlat there is nothing in the universe but the love of the Infinite God which has ever yet been given as a measure for it. A fountain whose streams of unfail- ing tenderness possess such an inherent energy that neither time, nor distance, nor change can interrupt or turn them from their course, and* whose Well-springs, if developed in wisdom, shall become the beautiful embodiment of our brightest ideals; yea, shall enlarge those ideals as the germs of still higher embodiments.' But, alas! tlese fountains hIve too often sent forth only the waters of bitterness. Their healing virtues have been neutralized, yea, poisoned by the hand of ignorance. Deformity has taken the place of beauty, hatred of love, and contention of harmony ; and all be- cause man has attempted to divorce the natural from the spiritual, the law of nature from the law of God. Crowned witlh the semblance of wisdom, and taking superstition as her willing hand-maiden of her wishes, ignorance Ihas reigned supreme in this garden of our God, miaking it but too often a Gethsemane of the bitterest -agony to those of high and holy aspiration. 7 page: 98-99[View Page 98-99] 98 MA YWEED BLOSSOMS. Yes, ignorance has done this; but thle time is coming, and now is, when the gates she has reared shall roll back upon their ponderous hinges, letting in the light of wisdom upon the fountains of life, till, purified from all uncleanness, their well-springs shall go forth to bless a waiting world. THE FAIRY HOST. WEARY with a day of toiling, On my couch I am reclining, While my thoughts are Through the open window flying, To the forest; where the sighing Of the breezes Tells me that the day is dying; To the forest wooing darkness, And the clouds,of pitchy blackness Hanging o'er it, To the clear blue sky between, Like another window, Opening from the landscape Of my window's bounded vision, To some scene perhaps elysian, Some fairy scene. What is this so brightly flashing? What tle rattling, roaring, rushing That I hear? THE FAIRY HOST. 'Tis a mighty host of fairies, Through that open windows Coming from afar! Of their eyes I see the glancing; 'Tis their many steeds a-prancing, And their many feet a-dancing, That I hear. Prancing o'er the tallest tree tops, Dancing on the greenest leaflets, Nearer, nearer, they are coming; Of their voices," Even now I hear the humming. Hark! there is a footstep On the roof above me Now another, and another! Thicker, faster, they are falling. 'Tis the fairies! hear themn calling To each other! Now there is a sudden silence, Followed by the rolling drum. Tells it of still greater numbers? Yes, in myriads, With resistless force they come! Now again the dance commences: Hopping, skipping, here and there, Lightly tripping everywhere About my dwelling, While the tales that they are telling Banish care; And the heavy pealing ; Of their deep-toned organ Fills the air. page: 100-101[View Page 100-101] 100 MA YWEED BLOSSOMS. Telling tales that banish care For their mission is to bless. Greenest things shall greende grow, Beauteous ones shall brighter glow, And the growing corn shall show Where their feet have pressed. Goodly fairies, that from cloudland Come to kiss the thirsty earth, How I love you! How I love your sparkling mirth! In the fervid heat of summer, I-ow I love your cooling breath! Love to hear your merry footsteps Pattering, pattering on the roof. But a something comes a stealing- As I listen - o'er my frame, Deadening every sense of feeling. 'Tis old Morpheus; "Ie has come to urge his claim. Back, old Morpheus! come not near me! With your fingers on mine eyelidsr, With your seal upon mine ear, How can I The fairies see and hear? Closer, closer still he presses- I must yield to his caresses; I must ,o a while to dwell In the land of dream and vision; ;Land pf terror or elysian. Lovely fairies, I am forced to say- farewell. HOW I LEARNED IT. 11. HOW I LEARNED IT. "'LEARNED what?" Why, that I could run away. "And how did you learn it?" Mother told me. You look as if you thought I didn't know what I was saying; but I db, and I mean it too. Mother told me that ]I could run away, and from her. It was like this: 1] wanted to go up to uncle's, and play with my little cousins; but mother said, "No." I teased till I found it would do no good; and then, to console myself for my disappointment, I went out, and made my way to what was called "The Gulf." It was just acioss one of uncle's fields, to the left, ahd a place of great interest to me. There was a very steep bank on one side, a very steep bank on the other side, and a very small stream at the bottom, which came out of the ground in the meadow just above. This little'stream was a very modest one, and as it was not permritted to run under ground any longer, it. seemed determined to get as nearly out of sight as possible; and with the rocks that jutted over it, and the bushes that bathed their feet therein, it was so nearly hidden that one had barely an occasional chance to say to it"'Peek-a-boo." Well, as I have said, it was a place of great interest to me, and if I did not always find, I was sure to be looking for something wonderful whenever I went there. My first astonish- ment in this catalogue'of wonders was a bush of beau- tiful wild honeysuckle, the first I had ever seen; andl there, too, were spikenard berries, hazlenuts, grapes, page: 102-103[View Page 102-103] 102 MA YWEED BLOSSOMS. and chestnuts, in the season for them; and sassafras bushes, upon which I so often spent all the strength I could suimmon in pulling up by the roots, that I milght have the bark as an article of luxury; and cunningc little birds' nests, equally cunning whether filled with eggs or young. Indeed, there was no end to the attrac- ltions. of the Gulf; so you see it was just the place fqr a disappointed child to go and forget trouble. When I had sufficiently recovered my equanimity, I returned to the house, and mother asked me where I had been. I told her. She looked at me sharply for a moment, and then said, "If I do find that you have been up to your uncle's,.you'll catch it." What a reve- lation was here I had never dreamed it possible t'hat I could golwhere mother said I mustn't; but I could, and mother knew it, for she was threatening me with punishment to prevent my doing so. And that was how I learned that I could run away. STAR VOICES. ON this pleasant winter evening, As my soul is calmly thinking, Through my heart a voice is thrilling From the stars that, winking, twinkling, Seem in upper heavens a-shrinking, Telling why they seem thus shrinking. As they flash and scintillate. STAR VOICES. 103 X "We are shrinking from the glory, From the grandeur of the glory Flaming from the myriad altars Of poor human hearts in pain: Pained through hopes so slowly dying; Pained by fires those hopes consuming, Till the ashes, falling backward, So bedim the spirit's vision, That the glory which we shrink from Is buthlackness unto themn" "O, these ash6s! dead, white ashes I Let no tear-drops fall upon them, Lest their! alkaline corroding Should so eat into your soul-life That your strength be naught but weakness, And your crown be thus too heavy, With its glory so transcendent, All too heavy, when it comes." Hark, again I hear them saying, "Mortals, would you'scape from sorrowing? Cease, then, cease this,constant praying; Quench the hidden fire in motion, Still the pulse of aspiration, Fossilize both heart and soul. If you ask, then you must suffer; You must grow to what you pray for, And the pangs of transformation Come before the glory conmes." "You may look, and you may wonder That there's none to save or help you: page: 104-105[View Page 104-105] BLOSSOMS. Your own arm must bring salvation; You yourself the wine-press tread; F,or yourself the cross must carry; For yourself must bow your head; But the soul that passeth upward, Through a way so steep and narrow That it bleedeth in the struggle, So expands upon the sulmmit !That to it there's no returning All the landscape .pread beneath it, All the broad blue heavens above it, But its birth-pangs ne'er again."- "Mortals, think you we have travailed Through the realms of space in vain ? Think you that the deep convulsions We have felt can comQ again? That our silver-hued r fulgence Could have been without a throe, That we could give liglht to others Had we felt no burstin: woe- Fire-refining, dross-consuming, Heaving tossing, boiling woe, Such as flaming star-hearts know ? Stars, you call us; suns we are; Central lights to many a planet, Many a less progressive star;- Have been made such by the forcing Of the fires within us hidden, Out through every throbbing pore - Fires, that to the white heat driven, Give us now the name of STAR." I AM HERE. "Lois, I am here. O, Lois, could you only see me as I am ! I am still your friend. G-." Thus wrote a soul-brother to me fromi the angel-land, controlling the hand of a medium for the purpose; and this, after he had said, through the lips of one entranced, " 0, what happiness - what happiness to meet you thus, and to have you know that it is me !" Life and immortality brought to light. The title deeds of our future existence signed, sealed, and delivered to us by those who, walking on the blue sea of Eternity, turn, and placing one foot upon the shore of Time, lift their hands, and swear by Him who liveth evermore, that these things are so; while rolling thunders echo their voices in wondering confirmation of that which is, as yet, sealed to many hearts and eyes. But the lightnings of inspiration aye dispelling the dark clouds that cover the full-cqbed sun, and soon shall all see clearly, and in the light of this glorious truth shall their souls grow strong to enter the lingdom. "Could you only see me as I am!" I shall see him, but not now; for the work that my Father has assiogned me is not finished.' The cup he hath given me I must drain to the dregs. "Even so, Father, for sq it scemeth good in thy sight." "What happiness to meet you thus!" Inseparable, inseparable: the links of God's love-chain too tenacious to be broken, the family on eairth and in the spirit- realms still one, joying in our joy, sorrowing in our page: 106-107[View Page 106-107] ) BLOSSOMS. DEA. sorrow, coming to us for happiness, and giving ecstatic bliss in return, rejoicing in the blossoming of the soul- buds of consciousness, even as we rejoice in the opening faculties of our children. "And to have you know that it is me." With what throbbing joy the mother presses her first-born to her heart; but it is as nought compared with that felt when it learns to know her from all others- Iwhen it learns that the eye beaming so fondly upon it is MOTHER'S. Yes, I know that it was him; and then my mother comes alsb, giving me sweet messages of love. 0, ye .who behold but the crown of thorns ! ye will some day know that I am blest, --so blest that even my sorrows bring me richest joy. "0, the joy ecstatic, thrilling Through my inmost being, filling To its fulness all my soul, Like the waves of love eternal, Rippling through the realms supernal, Making music while they roll." DEATH NEVERMORE. 'TWAS night, and swift the lightnings Were flashing through the sky, Revealing only darkness Unto the tear-dimned eye, That could not see the beauty Which shone above it all - For faith, and hope, and duty Seemed covered with a pall! 0, there she sat in anguish, - That more than widowed one; The light of heart and hearthstone Forever, ever gone! "No footstep now to meet me, No fondly beaming eye, No loved one's voice to greet me- 0, would that I might die ! " That wish in secret cherished, Soon floated through the air, Up to the Great Eternal, In words of bitter prayer: "0 God ! my hopes are blighted; Earth holds no joys for me! Of mortals the most wretched, May I not come to thee?" While reason thus was reeling Beneath her weight of woe, A phantom form came stealing, With footsteps soft and slow, Into that lonely chamber, And fixed her hollow eye Upon the kneeling mourner, Who prayed that she might die. This haggard phantom carried An infant on her arm, The curse of Slavery branded Upon its little form: page: 108-109[View Page 108-109] L08 MA YWEED BLOSSOMS. A flag was o'er them floating Of stripes without the stars, And chains around them clanking, All rusted o'er with tears. While fondly to her bosom Her babe she tried to hold, The slave-fiend took it from her, And bartered it for gold! Then, as her awful shrieking Made Misery's cheek turn pale, The cutting lash descended To hush her heart-wrung wail I The vision faded slowly - The storm hath given place To sweet and placid sunshine, On Nature's lovely face; But still that kneeling mourner "er prayer to Heaven addressed; But 'twas for strength to labor For all of earth's oppressed. Once "she prayed that life's poor token, Canker-eaten, might be broken, etting free the chafing spirit, beating 'gainst its prison- door;" But she prayeth thus no longer, For her soul is growing stronger, aily stronger as she saileth Life's eventful ocean o'er. Paddling now her own canoe, Captain sie, and she the crew, BEAUTY AND TS LO VES. -109 She will safely pass 'the hurlgate, where the raging bil- lows roar. Putting by the vale translucent, She will land her bark -triumphant- Land it with a song of triumplh, on that bright eternal shore. Brother, on that sunset heather, Though we should not kneel together, We shall surely fill our mission - Death for us now nor never is not now' nor never- more BEAUTY AND ITS LOVES. BEsAUTY is one of the many manifestations that God makes of himself to his creatures, in order to win their love. , Tle love of beauty, -an inherent principle in the human hearlt,-- which, carried to its ultimate, would lead us into all truth. The love of being beautiful, -the first step fowards I sulch ultmtiatin, --the first-born child of Beauty and its Love. A child that has but to realize that true beauty is spiritual and eternal; that truth is the soul of such beauty, and it will seek after it till the enlight- ened and harmonized spirit will cause the most homely features to become lovely, through the transcendently beautifull soul which they reflect; a soul which, when freed firom the body, will not need a new one to make i it fit for the companionship of angels, for it will already be clothed in garments sufficiently glorious. page: 110-111[View Page 110-111] "O MAYIEED BLOSSOMS. DREAMS AND REALITIES. TO MY SISTER SARAH. THE curtains of darkness Around me had closed, And my wearied limbs W'ere stretched for repose, When my spirit; took flight And hastened away, In dream-land to range Till the breaking of day. Methought for long years I had been from mly home, But unto it now I did haste to return: Forgotten all else In the hope that I felt, Of standing again Where the hearth-circle knelt. O'er valley and mountain I sped on my way, Till night brought a blush To the fair cheek of day, When the cot of my father Arose to my sight, 'Neath the shadowing trees, On the opposite height: DREAMS AND REALITIES. 1" 'Neath the shadowing trees, Where together we played Ere sorrow had cast O'er our spirit a shade, - Where the robin and bluebird Came yearly to sing Their carols of gladness, A welcome to spring. In the side of the hill We had made us a seat, Sister, you and I, And there it was yet; And there was the rivulet's Silvery sheen, - A spirit of beauty To gladden the scene. The murmuring song' Of the silvery rill,- The seat we had made In the side of the hill, And scenes all around, As they greeted my sight, Awoke in my bosom A thrill of delight. A thrill in my bosom, But had not the power My footsteps to stay In that heart-yearning hour; page: 112-113[View Page 112-113] MAA YWEED BLOSSOMS. My footsteps to stay ~As onward I sped To the cot that in infancy Sheltered my head. I reached it ! I reached it! And quickly was pressed To Love's purest altar,- A fond mother's breast; WhIile eyes that were bright, And faces all fair, Did greet me as sister, And welcome me there. 0, Father in heaven! Why could it not last ? That vision of gladness So linked with the past. Why must I awake To reality's doom, To find that my mother Lies low in the tomb ? To feel that the home, Where I knelt at her knee, Can never again Ble a home unto me; - To know' that the loved ones, Who knelt by my side, Are borne from each other On time's rolling tide. 'Tis well, but 'tis anguish. 0, Wisdom Divine! The links of affection, Around us that twine, Are held in thine hand, ,^-Though severed they seem, 'Tis that they more brightly, More brightly may gleam. TWO SIDES TO THE PICTURE. " MRS. BALL'S Jane has left her; she says Jane's- mother tells her that it is always so ; she never will stay longr at a time." "Jane's mother! Why, when she first came to Mrs. Ball's, the story was that her mother always took her away as soon as she got clothed up a little. When did she go?" "On Tuesday." "Tuesday! That was the day she was here to bor- row the churn; the day before the picnic. She wanted to go very nmuch, but had no money to pay her fare on the cars." . "Wouldn't Mrs. Ball let her have it?" "No. Jane said she had asked Mrs. Ball, and she told her that she should give her no twenty cents. She wanted me to let her have it, but I had no change by me; then she wanted me to ask you for it, but I thought she had better ask you herself." 8 page: 114-115[View Page 114-115] "4 AIAYIWEED BLOSSOMS., "She did not come to me, or she should have had it. I think Mrs. Ball might have let her have that trifle." "She said something about trying to get it of her aunt. That was what she went for then; she asked to go and see her aunt, and Mrs. Ball told her that she might, after, the churning was done, iflhe would be back in time to get the dinner; but she did not come at all." "Have they not seen her since?" "Mr. Ball saw her the next day, and she said she wanted to come back; but he toldl her that his wife said she wouldn't have her any more; she had gone, and she might stay." "What reason did she give for not coming back at the time specified? "I don't know as any. Mrs. Ball thinks that she staid longer than she intended, and then was afraid to come lest she should get punished. She says Jane had been quite a good girl for the last two weeks; had been learning to sew, and succeeded well for a beginner; that she would have been quite a help to her in time, had she staid." The foregoing remarks were made in my hearing not long since; and now let us examine the matter fairly, and see who was most to blame, Jane or her mistress. Jane's mother was a worthless woman; only a curse to those she should have protected; and poor Jane, though but a child, was left to care for herself; to find a home wherever she could; and Mrs. Ball had taken her from the street, one cold day the winter before, just at night, and thinly clad. The woman with whom she had been staying hid turned her out, for some cause, TWO SIDES TO THE PICTURE. 115 and the child was crying bitterly, not knowing where to find shelter for the night. WMrs. Ball was lame, and could not, on that account, get around very well to do her work, and her husband's income was, too small to warrant their hiring it done. She had hitlerto depended upon a sister, who made her home with them; but this sister was soon to be mar- ried, thus leaving her entirely alone. Jane was large enolugh to wash dishes, set tables, run of errands, and the like; consequently just such help as the circum- stances demanded. The lady talked loudly of the wrongs the poor child had endured, how she had been neglected, &c., and said that if Jane would stay with her, and trylto be a good girl, she should not want for a home, but should be clothed up, and made comfortable. "To be sure, she must have faults; " that was to be expected; she had been so neglected, it could not be otherwise; but some one must care for the child, and why not her as well as another? So Jane was duly installed in her new home, and Mrs. Ball just as duly congratulated herself upon the good she was doing. Months passed. The blush of spring began to fade before the brighter hues of summer. The time of pic- nics had come. Circle after circle of happy children had gone forth from the city's dusty walls to revel a while in the garden's nature. The class with whom Jane was connected was soon to take their turn. She could not go to school, but the teacher had kindly agreed to let her go to the picnic, if she would furnish her share of the finds necessary to pay the expenses. But where was she to get the money? '!. * 1 page: 116-117[View Page 116-117] "6 3Ar YWEED BLOSSOMS. O, she would be very good, and perhaps Mrs. Ball would let her have it. This, doubtless, was the secret of her behaving so much better than usual the last two weeks of her stay. '0, how her heart had throbbed between hope and fear; how she had tried, by every art in her power, to win the good will of her mistress; how she had calculated the chances of success, and shrank from the thought of failure. She wouldn't miss going for anything! They were going a good many miles on the cars; were to have speeches and music! It would be a new era in her existence. But the time draws near; there is but one day left; she timidly asks for the twenty cents, and is refused. She turns away with a sinking heart, but will not give it up so; she may get it of some one yet. She gets permission to go out, with the understanding that she is to return in time to get the dinner. This she readily promises, and intends to perform; but, in her anxiety to accomplish her object, she forgets the flight of time, and, ere she is aware, the hour for her return has passed, and then she dares not go. Poor child! dis- appointed all around, and all for the paltry sum of twenty cents. Mrs. Ball could well afford to keep her for a waiter; let her eat at the side table, and make over old clothes for her to wear;' but she could not afford to pay out money for her. Not she! But, had any one dared to tell her that she was not doing well by the child, the charge would have been indignantly repelled. Why, she had taken her from the street! had given her a home! How much would they have her do? Stop a moment, my good woman. Let us look at \ ' \ 1 TWO SIDES TO TIlE PICTURE. 117 this thing a little. Suppose your James or your George had wanted the same, or even twice the amount, for a similar purpose. Suppose their mates had all been going out for a holiday, could you not have found the means for them eto go? But they have always rejoiced in a father's care, and a fond mother's love, and would not need it half as much as did this poor neglected one. Could you not spare twenty cents to purchase a ray of sunshine to illumine her darkened path? And " you wished to make her a good girl,"you said. Well, what better way could you have taken, than to have shown her that you appreciated her efforts to please you, by saying, "Yes, Jane, I guess I must let you go; you have been a pretty good girl of late, and you deserve a holiday. Go and enjoy yourself; but be careful to do what is rilght and proper, and when you return, I shall expect you to keep doing better all the time. I know it is hard breaking up bad habits, but you will conquer if you persevere." Suppose you had taken such a course, instead of the one you did, would you not have been repaid in more ways than one? You may think you did just right; but while you are exclaiming against the ingratitude of other people's children in general, and of this one in particular, others may form a very different opinion. page: 118-119[View Page 118-119] "8 IMAYWEED BLOSSOMS. MOTTLED SUNSET. THE lambs that lie a-resting Beside the golden bars, That part the realms of daylight From the region of the stars,. Have given to the shearers Their soft and shining fleeces, And fairy little fingers Have pulled them all to pieces. Like snowflakes in their softness, Like robes that angels wear, Like amber colored rose leaves, They're floating through the air; Are floating, softly floating, Like the rainbow tints that rise From life-inspiring fountains, In groves of paradise. O, this world isvery lovely When: morning shows her face, And brighter still her beauty, As noon comes on apace; But when, at day's departing, The comning in of even Brings such a scene of glory, It makes me think of heaven. A HOME IN IIEA VEN. 119 ! A HOME IN HEAVEN. How deeply is the love of home implanted in the human heart! It is ever prompting us to seek some place to which we can turn and be at rest; that place to be dearer to us than all the world beside. The asso- ciat ons of home tend to strengthen the noblest feelings of tie soul; it is one of the loves which elevate and refine. But will it endure? Will it pass with us into the future? I believe it will, for does God create only that he may destroy? nourish all the days of our mortal life that which cannot pass with us through the gates of deatnh Aii who does not k., w that the love of home is stronger at three score than at fifteen? And Ic, says one, is the love of life. Yes, thank God; and we shall take life, the life of immortality with us, as we shall the love of home. This cannot die, for it is a part of our- selves, and being such, shall be gratified in accordance with the divinest wisdom. Yes, we shall have a home in heaven. *We often hear people speaking of heaven as a home; but to how few has the idea come of a home in heaven, a specific dwelling-place appointed unto us, a mansion where we can collect and arrange our treasures accord- ing to our individual tastes? Heaven our home! What would some poor earth wanderer say, if you should attempt to comfort him by telling him that the world was his home? He would tell you at once that that was just what he complained of; his home was to6 page: 120-121[View Page 120-121] 120 iJAYWEIEED BLOSSOMS. large; he could not appropriate it; that such general proprietorship suited neither his wishes nor his needs. Alas! of how many may it be said, "the world is their home," "the foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of mnan hath not where to lay his head??" The world is my home." It is rather an expression of desolation than of rest; and would it be less so if it were true of the world to come? Is heaven so much less cap)acious than earth? or do we expect that our spirits will become so enlarged, upon leaving the body, that we can fill and appropriate its boundless realms? Believe it not. We shall have a home in heaven-an actual residence, fitted up in accordance with our individual characteristics; a liv- ing expression of-our inner selves. "Lay up for yourselves .leasures ln near-r, i r injunctinr otf true wisdom, and, as is[ our obedience ilereto, so will be the beauty and richness of that home. How many, who look upon it as a great misfor- tune to be poor here, forget the possibility of compara- tive poverty there. They busy themselves in collecting this world's goods, not one particle of which they can carry with them; but are exceedingly moderate in their aspirations for a future life. If they can only be ad- mitted inside of heaven's gate, they deem it sufficient. But it seems to me that it will not be so pleasant a thing, after all, to be saved, as by fire, while the treas- ures I have accumulated are burned up, because we have not selected those of a durable stamp. Such people show that they have no true idea of what heaven is. To them it is no living reality; a something to be wrought out for themselves. The command, to A HfOME IN lHEA' VEN. 121 work out their own 'salvation, has no meaning which they can enter into and understand; but they seem to expect that it will be given to them, something as one receives a piece of property by bequest. They have no realizing sense that our heaven is, and ever must be, in accordance with our receptivity; that it must flow into, and be elaborated through us into garments of beauty, precious jewels, and glorious marisions, and that only so far as they are thus elaborated can they be ours. Those who sow to the flesh shall, of the flesh, reap corruption, and those who sow to the spirit shall, of the spirit, reap life everlasting," while ' those who sow sparingly, shall reap sparingly," in one case as well as in the other; and thus shall our home there be just what we please to make it, or rather, a true representa- tion of what we please to make ourselves. The insignia of our moral rank, be it liigh or low, will be stamped upon all that pertains to us, and wherever we go we shall -be known for just what we are. But there is one advantage that those homes will have over the homes of earth. Our mansions will never become old or weather- beaten, nor our furniture covered with dust and cob- webs, if not subject to constant supervision; our fruits will not mildew, nor our flowers wither, because of a worm at the root. We may go forth through the realms of the infinite, on voyages of discovery, or missions of benevolence, and when we return, all will be as bright and beautiful as ever;lmeanwhile, we may be permitted, from time to time, to transfer from the garden of our God some transparent evergreen, some flower of perennial lone- liness, thus adding to the beauty of that home which page: 122-123[View Page 122-123] 122 MAYWEED BLOSSOMS. shall continue to grow fairer through the endless ages of eternity. O, glorious hope! Well might the apostle exhort us to run with patience the race that is set before us! A LEAF FROM MEMORY. "ONG years ago, when I was but a child,'- Yes, they were long, those years; they did not flit As now, so swiftly by, but paused to gaze On childhood's sunny brow. I sported then, One balmy day, without the cottage door That was my father's home. The western sky Bespoke the waning day's departing hour, When my sweet sister, pausing in her play, Exclaimed, "Papa has come!"My toys were dropped, And springing forward, thought to catch his hand'; But there was something in his look so sad It checked the joyous beating of iay heart; 'Twas so unwont I lnew not what it meant; No kiss he'gave, nor scarce a single smile, As on with lingering tread he passed to where Our mother watched our baby brother's cot. I paused through fear, of what I did not know, One moment at the door but the desire Which so predominates, and ever has, Within the human breast, whate'er lies hid To learn, impelled me on, and I saw what I ne'er remember to have seen before- A LEAF FROM MEMORY. '123 The tears slow trickling down my mother's cheeks. They fell upon my heart like drops of ice. I stole me to her side; she cla-sped me close, As if she feared some one would tear me thence. What could it be that grieved my parents thus? They spake of death. I studied o'er and o'er To see what that could mean: I could not tell; But now I know. Alas! I know too well; For I have seen him lay his hand upon That mothe's form, till, shrinking from his touch, She hid herself within the silent grave. They spake of death, a lake, and a frail bark Upon its bosom rocked, too roughly rocked, E'en till its inmates grappled with the deep. I tried, but tried in vain, to comprehend )'t IThe fearful tale their looks and words expressed; In after years, oft told, I learned it all. Assist me, mournful muse, while I attempt, i In language worthy of the scene, to paint 5 lWhat is inscribed so deeply on my heart. Within the bosom of a lovely scene, Itself the centre, stands a little lake:- - Go thou, upon some quiet summer day, And looking down into its placid depths, Say if thou see'st ought to waken fear, 'Tis so serenely fair? But trust it not, For when old Boreas rises from his seat, i 'Tis shaken like the heart by passion swayed. On such a time there came unto its beach A band united by the ties of love;- t , Two brothers, 'with their wives, and one sweet child; \ ' . 1 page: 124-125[View Page 124-125] 124 AYWEED BLOSSOMS And maidens too, who doubted not that life, With all its charms, was all before them yet. Unto the beach they came, and gating on The other shore, they feared to cross thereto, For lo! the winds spake threateningly, and waves, With sullen aspect, said, "Tempt not our rage." They heard, and feared; but, led by stiong desire, They ventured forth upon the treacherous deep. Treacherous! Ah, no, for they were fairly warned! Too soon they learned, that those who take desire Instead of reason for their guide, shall find Their footsteps following in the devious path Which leads away from hope's bright goal of peace. Swayed to and fro, like some tall slender tree When the fierce blast comes sweeping through the vale, Their little bark, unable to withstand, Or buffet with the waves, was soon a wreck. What words can paint the agony of fear That filled! their bosoms in that dreadful hour! A hair's breadth 'twixt them and eternity. But here, e'en here, the love of life, within Each human breast so strong, found room to act, Found means to baffle death. One trembling maid : Clung with despairing strength to the frail skiff, And one across it threw' her fainting form; The father, husband, brother, with one hand Took it and its load, ;and with the other Took his, wife and child; then, with an energy I ;9SMrILITUDES. I U 125 Which comes but in extremity, he swam And bore them to the land; - not all of them;- His babe had yielded up its little life, And when the father saw, -" O, let it go," rf^ He said, " for I can scarcely hope to save Those that yet live." !1- . WBhere are the other two? For there were seven: the memory of one Floats o'er the vision of my early days Like a bright halo. I never dreamed That loveliness like hers could be eclipsed,- That other aunties could be half as good As mine. Alas! alas! that she should die! That one so young, whose prospects were so bright, Should perish thus! But six short months had passed Since she, unite(] with her chosen one, Deemed earth lut little less than paradise, - United first in life, rind then in death, Together clasped, the waves swept o'er their heads. SIMILITUDES. TO MATILDA. THE sun, in his glory, Hath set in the west; The earth, 'neath his rays, Lies fainting no more; page: 126-127[View Page 126-127] 126 MA YWEET) BLOSSOMS. How grateful the dew That descends on its breast, With life and fresh vigor Each plant to restore Thus, when weary my body And sinking thy soul, The night qometh on To inviLe to repose, Like the cew may the smile Of the Father control Each troubled emotion, And scatter thy woes. The rays of the sun, When he cometh at morn, Are not like the rays Which burn at noonday; The earth filled with gladness Now greets his return, And the train of Erebus Flies swiftly away. Thui when morning appears, May the sun of thy soul Compassionate weakness, And mild shed his light; For should he his noontide Of glory unfold, Thy spirit, o'erwhelmed, Would faint at the sight. SIMLITUDES. 127 In spring-time the flowers And foliage green, Give promise that plenty Shall be by and by; In autumn no fruit On the bough shall be seen, Unless shower after shower Descend from on high. Thus the spring of thy life May promise to thee A harvest well worthy Thy toil and thy caro; But thy toil and thy care Unavailing shall be, If angels of love Listen not to thy piayer. No summer continual Sunshine can give, But ofttinxes with clouds Is the sky overcast; What is there, without them, On earth that could live, And sunshine and shower Bring the harvest at last. Though grief cast her shadow Full oft o'er thy path, Remember that trial Make virtue grow strong; page: 128-129[View Page 128-129] 128 iMAYWEFED BLOSSOMS. If hid from thine eye Is thy sun, live by faith; And the harvest of heaven Shall thine be ere long. When the storehouse is full And the fire burneth bright, The hoarse blasts of Boreas Unheeded sweep by; Within the loved home There are scenes of delight, Though thick darkness cover The face of the sky. Thus the frosts of life's winter Unheeded are felt, When the fire of God's love Burns bright in the heart; E'en the cold chill of death i This hath power to melt, And cause thee to welcome The hour to ldepart. SOUL PICTURES. O, THE soul hath many pictures, Hung about upon its walls; Some are touched with heavenly beauty, Some with tints of burning gall-- Tints of bitter, burning gall. , ; + SOUL PICTURES. 129 Some are painted by the angels, Bending from their home above, Striving thus to give to mortals, Glimpses of thelcharms of love: Yes, for God himself is love. But we, in impatient blindness, Snatch the pencil from their hands; Then some hideous distortion, Emblem of our folly, stands; Ay, a lasting emblem stands. Vainly strive we to erase it, Vain to cover up the whole, For, indelibly transparent Are the lictures of the soul,- All transparent in the soul. And to-day I have been gazing On a thus distorted scene, Through the many colored paintings That have since been hung between; By the angels hung between. a Pitying angels, spare your efforts, For ye cannot hide the past; 'Tis my picture, I must keep it fi e" Long as memory's power shall last; l Long as I, myself, shall last. page: 130-131[View Page 130-131] D BLOSSOMS. I must keep it; but the future, With its still ungarnished walls, Meets me, with a look beseeching, As I go to walk its 'halls; Gro to walk its untrod halls. Sent by Him who lives to love us, Your protection I would claim, That on what is there reflected I may never look with shame. Guardian anggls, Help me trust in Love's great name. THE SMILE OF GOD. WITHOUT it, earth would be a void As dark as chaos wild, Ere God first said, "Let there be light," And to create it, smiled. He smiled; and, lo ! the morning stars In circling clusters sang, And with the shouting of His sons, The heavenly arches rang. And myriad, myriad rolling orbs, Ingulfed in blackest night, Sprong forth upon their shining track, Arrayed in living light. Aye, livin llight! The smile of God, That unto being warms The singing birds, and fruits and flowers, As its embodied forms. For 'tis that ever-living smile, WIhich, every passing hour, Gives to creation's throbbing pulse Its energizing power. GROWING OLD. THEY tell me " I am growing old "- That on my brow are lines of care - That years have left their furrows there - That Time, with fingers gaunt and cold, Is weaving in my auburn hair 'His lines of frost as if he would prepare For Death a pathway, and his labors share. And I repeat, " I am growing old;" Then as I pause to ask the meaning Of words that unto me are seeming Like to an idle talc oft told, Or like the vagaries of dreaming, I see a light from out the distance streaming - The light of life in mellow radiance beaming. The light of life, the light of heaven, That on the wings of love is flying, To win us from our bitter sighing- page: 132-133[View Page 132-133] 32 MA YWEED BLOSSOMS. A holy light by which 'tis given, To know that time is only trying The bands to sever that are round us lying Our worn-out garments, and we call it dying. Go, tell that merry-hearted child, f Whose little feet are pattering o'er The pebbles on life's sandy shore,- - J Whose laugh rings out so free and wild, He's growing old, because the clothes he wore With so much pride a month or two before, Are now with rents and patches covered o'er. Ah, just as well as talk of age To me because the garb I'm wearing Looks dull - because decay is staring Upon me from life's fairest page. New robes are even now preparing, ! And angels soon shall shout the reappearing Of life's worn book, the seal inmmortal bearing. I Then talk no more of growing old !, To one whose life shall last for aye- 1 Life that throughout unending day Shall still in higyher forms unfold. From out the depth of being comes the cry, God's image, it can never die; Death han no sting, the grave no victory." !I' I i "UCY, DARLING. 133 "UCY, DARLING. O DARLING, Lucy, darling, The sun adown the west Is sinking in his grandeur, As a God would sink to rest, ';While clouds of floatiing amber That deck the vault above, Are reflected in the waters As a lieart reflects its love. i The splendor of the sunset, The vault of 'azure blue, The sky and glassy waters, But make me think of you; For the beauty they are showing,- Sun, water, clouds, and sky,- Are all combined together In your love-lit, angel eye. '\ ;1 Then darling, Lucy, darling, - i Where'er I roam or rest, i; My heart to you'll be turning {j As the friend I love the best; For the beauty of your spirit, Surpassing form and face, , Has left on mine an image * That noughl can e'er efface. , i i! ig; page: 134-135[View Page 134-135] 134 MAYWEED BLOSSOMS. EARTH ANGELS. TELL me not that angels holy Only dwell in worlds above; Come they not to spirits lonely, Messengers of peace and love? Are they not here all about us, Not as guests, but faithfill friends, Watching ever on our footsteps, Wheresoe'er these footsteps tend? Yes they are, for I have seen them Standing by the couch of pain, Wiping off the clammy death sweat, Or the tears that fell like rain. I have seen them by the hearthstone, With their eyes of heavenly light Scattering every cloud of; sadness, Putting every care to flight. I have seen them in the higllways, Thronged with busy, flying feet, And I've seen them in the byways, Where the humble poor retreat, In the cottage, in the palace, By the prisoner's lonely cot;- O, this earth is full of angels! Though too oft we know them not. Once, when I was very weary, And the path of duty seemed E4RTII ANGELS. 13i For a moment sad and dreary, On my vision, lo! there beamed Such a wond'rous wealth of beauty, Such a fair and fragrant mead, That my feet were well nigh tempted In forbidden paths to tread, I forgot that pleasure's fingers Fashion for the soul a tomb; I forgot that deep morasses May be overspread with bloom. I had walked on beds of quicksand, Covered with deceitful green; But the form of one that loved me, At the moment came between. ':Ncath his blue eye, calm and steady, Once again my soul grew strong, ;For I felt that God had sent him To withhold me froml the wrong. Dear earth angels, O, how potent Are your tones and looks of love To protect us when temptation For our strength too strong would prove.' Yes, this earth is full of angels Clothed a while in robes of clay, 4 Some of which are new and goodly, Some are fading fast away; But too oft we fail to know them Till their work on earth is done, And the fluttering of their pinions Tells us that they hence have flown. page: 136-137[View Page 136-137] BL OSSOMaS. 136 MAYWEED BLOSSOMS. MY FATHER. GONE from the earth-life to the spirit-land - gone to join her who has been waiting for thee for almost a quarter of a century - the companion of thy youth, the mother of thy children. O, what a change! What a change from the toilsome unrest of the suffering life from which father, mother, sister, brother, and wife dropped away, one by one, leaving thee to " put tired to tired, and at it again," in thy struggle with disap- pointment, poverty, and disease. My father, I am sadl when I remember. that I shall see thy bowed form no more in the life that now is, and glad that the sunlight of eternity has risen upon thine enfranchised soul - has risen, not to call thee from thy couch to wearisome toil, but from toil and suffering to soul-invigorating rest. Father, mother, and the little sister who has now grown, to womanhood, in the spirit-land, beautiful womanhood, under the immediate eye of our mother! Father, Mother, Sister,-a, triune band, to watch over the six that remain! My mother, my father, I know that the Infinite Prin- ciple governing all things is wise and good. I cannot, I dare not believe otherwise; if I did, I should go mad with despair! And yet, yet there comes a pang of agony when I remember the poverty of your earthly lives - poverty in all that which develops the soul, -as well as makes the body comfortable. My mother, O, my mother! imy soul quivers with anguish when I think of the accursed gripe of the "Beldame Sprite," holding thy fine, spiritual nature in abeyance, violating thy tastes, sending thy proud soul back into itself, unap., preciated and misunderstood, counted as of little worth. by those whose valuation of woman consisted in the: amount of physical labor she could perform, and the readiness with which she could enter into the gossipl and. scandal of the neighborhood; suffering thus, while the wealth that was daily wasted upon the proud - fools of society would have developed into sparkling lustre the bright jewels of thine inner life. And, father, when I. remember in those years that lhe was with us, and after , she had flitted to brighter climes, when I remember the continuous toil, the coarse fare, and poor attire that was thine, in order that thy children might have bread, and that, while others agrew richer for thy toil, - when I think of all this, mly soul cries out, "Where is Justice, and where the habitation of her throne?" Hush! hush! Turnl thine eyes away froml beholding the past, lest the sympathetic chain, which binds in one, should lead them back to the valley of shadows. They have travelled it once ; and is not that enough, without having its image constantly reflected to their view from the heart of their clild? Away, away, corroding thoughts! If I can look upon the darkest shades in the past of my own life, and thank Heaven forLeach trial, believing that "A mnre than human wisdom Guides us all our journey through," shall I think of them as looking from the eternal shores with regretful longing that they suffered here? Nay, nay, it cannot be! And thus the sweet dove of peace page: 138-139[View Page 138-139] 138 MA 1YWEED BLOSSOMS. comes brooding o'cr the troubled waters with her whis- pered "All is well." Peace, did I say? Shall I be at peace because mY father and mother have passed safely over? Are not others suffering still from the wrong of injustice, from the selfish cupidity of their fellows? Nay, give me no selfish rest, but gird me anew for the conflict, ye angel hosts, and "Burst, ye emerald gates, and bring Unto my raptured vision," not' "All the ecstatic joys that spring Around thie bright elysian," but the princijples wthicT lead to those joys, that I may. teach others the way of eternal life. CLOUD FANCIES. WHITHEIt away, thou floating form Of soft and fleecy whiteness, Misnamled a cloud? -no Coming storm Rests in thine airy lightness. Thine origin I fain would learn, And whither is thy final bourne? Hast thou arisen from the earth, The spirit-life of flowers? If so, thou surely hadst thy birth Within her fairest bowers: 'Tis fit that such ethereal grace Should now adorn your azure space. CLOUD FANCIES. 139 Perhaps thou art of humble prayer, The incense tlat doth rise Until it entereth the ear Of Him who rules the skies; Then speed thee on thine upward way, Fair suppliant to the court of day. Sometimes my humble fancy says A favored infant one I Has left its little sports and plays To seek a fairer home; And that thou art the floating car On which they ride through upper air. And then I think an angel hand, Is hovering o'er the earth, As guardian spirits to the land That gave them mortal birth; And that thou art the lovely guise, In which they hide them from our eyes. By why, through Fancy's wide domain, Should I delight to rove? No lovelier truth I there shall gain Than God's impartial love. Impartial love, for just as fair, The mists that gather in the air, From stagnant pools, as those which rise From crystal founts to seek the skies. page: 140-141[View Page 140-141] MA YWEED BLOSSOMS. THE EMBLEM. Or, while you're gazing upon some tiny snowy whiteness remind you of the shroud wrapped your darling, and bore it from sight, i heerless leaving, as winter's starless night? k its spirit may be as neat to thee, iteots emblem, from every stain as free? s once a dew-drop, and rested on a rose, he beauty its blushing sweets disclose; sun had risen, and saw his image there, to heaven, for earth it was too fair; it defilement its purity should stain, ,11 unworthy to mingle in his train. while you're gazing upon some tiny cloud, of the dear one they covered with a shroud, t the dew-drop, on which you loveld to gaze, cted upward; is sparkling in the blaze ,rnal sunlight; is dwelling in a home L never reach it, and sorrow never come. THE SONG OP TIE INVALID. THE SONG OF THE INVALID. O, TAKE me away from the city's strife, To the peaceful scenes of rural life; I long to escape from thec withering care, And to breathe again of a purer air; To listen a while to the songs that rise On the wings of love to their native skies. O, keep me not here, for the gushing rills, As they leaping come from their payrent hills, Invite me to go to their valleys fair, And to roam with them where the lilies are; To join in their sports, and to help them sing Of the matchless charms of the virgin Spring. There's health for the sons of the fruitful so&il In the breeze that sings to their daily toil, Or toys for a while with their waving hair, As it paints their cheeks as the roses are; While vainly I seek, in the crowded mart, I can find no strength for my fainting heart. The plains and the valleys arec long and wide; There is room enough on the mountain side; Then why should I stay in this narrow place,' Where the hapless ones of the human race Must dwell in the earth, or must climb so high, They can say, almost, that they lease the sky? page: 142-143[View Page 142-143] "2 MAYWEED BLOSSOMS. THEN. YEs, then, just as I found the home of my fifth sum- mer. Mother used to say that p" artnership was a poor ship to sail in," and father found it true in his case, when forced to leave our pine woods' home and start anew in the poor man's struggle for the possession of God's free gift to man- the soil. This time he pitched his tent on East Hill, and went to work, with liands made hard by honest toil, for which, if ever lie has received his reward, it is now, for it was not here. Does the future give compensation to those who are too honest to succeed lere? If not, tlen justice lis but a name. Little did I tl}en know, however, of . par- ent's care. The air was chill, but the sun had sent the snow rippling down the streams in the form of water, and it was not; too cold for a curious child to wander forthin search of the unknown. The first discovery that I made, of,',sufficient limportance to be reemmlcred, was some wintergretns, at the big end of a very large log, out in the old chopping; the next was a small pine, growing so slanting that I could walk right up it, and swing from the top to the ground on the opposite side of the stream, on the bank of, which it stood. This was enoulgh for one day; but it was not long before we, sister and I, found the "hoary old rock," out in "the old pasture field," on which we used to ham- mer for hours, trying to secure somne of the shiningo particles which sparkled upon its surface. But some- how, when separated from the rock, we always found THEN. 143 that the shine was all gone, and to console ourselves for our disappointment, we would gather up the sand and take it to the house for mother to scour the floor' with. The warmth of spring soon brought the-flowers, the first of which I gathered from beneath branches of The oak in the corner, Where acorn cups fell From boughs that seemed up in the sky." Presently the big meadow was covered with yellow blossoms,- -daisies, I called them, - then strawherries blossomed and ripened, and blueberries did the same. Lady-slippers, with their pink and white flowers, shaped so like a shoe, were discovered in the woods by the school-house, and sister ran away to go to school, the first day, only three years old at that, went nearly a mile alone, and got punished for it in the b1argain. Thus on till the summer passed away, and the winter too, making one more of the five years that we tarried ere we were away to the West complete; five years more of my life, ere we went to live on the shore of Lake Erie. Away, but the heart was left behind. O, the heart- sickness of the homesick child! The busy scenes of the day may holql the tried spirit, but when slumber comes, it returns to the dear, familiar haunts, to wander there till the dawn of the morning brings it back to life, - better say death and disappointment. page: 144-145[View Page 144-145] THE MAGDALENE. UP from the region of darkness, Up from the valley of thorns, With face that was blanched with the darkness, With feet that were bleeding and torn; She came, in the strength of her weakness, The strength of a mighty resolve, A strength that was perfect in weakness; And clasping the horns of the altar, She said., "I will die at the altar," Had fainted and died at the altar; But an angel, who stood there in waiting, Threw a strong arm around to support her: To support, and to bid her look upward, Away from the cold looks of scorning, From the looks that were cruel and scorning, Away to the light of the glory Which beamed frotl the region beyond. With the arm of the angel around her, And the light that was shining above heir, Her feet made a progress so rapid, @ That the arrows of envy and scorning, Full soon they fell short of their aiming: Fell short of the mark of their aiming, Till those who had Looked down upon her, And measured the distance between them, As the gauge of their lofty position, Forgetting their need to move onward, Forgetting there could be a higher, Found even the lost one above them, Found her as the angel to lead them To the land of the pure and the blessed. BEAUTIFUL BY REFLECTION. WHO has not exclaimed " How beautiful!" when looking at a mass of sunset clouds. Beautiful indeed; and yet, were we to go thitler and attempt to analyze the particles of'which they are composed, we should not for :a moment imagine that they contained the receptive power for the reflection of such beautiful hues. How illustrative of the manner in which the greatest minds of earth are 'often judged by those who are brought into daily contact with them. Looking only on the present, a1nd the fruitions of the present, they discover nothing renmarkable in the results of the every-day routine of toil and rest; yea, according to their measurement, often only failure, consequently they pass such by with- out notice, if not with contemptt; do this, little dream- ing that they are thus scorning those who are destined, through the reflected light of heaven, to become the morning stars of succeeding generations. T0 page: 146-147[View Page 146-147] t 146 M A YWEED BLOSSOMS. PATIENCE. "YES, that's forever the cry! Patience, patience I want to witness results sometimes ; I am tired of see- ing those who started in life with me distancing me, one after another, and with but half the effort that I am makingl; vhilst I do not seem one whit nearer the accomplishment of ly desires. I sometimes feel as if there must be a wrong, an injustice somewhere." "You are not very haDpy to-day, ny friend. Let us walk abrolad and look upon tie face of nature ; perhaps we can find something to disDel this cloud. Beautiful, isn't it, the variety which everywhere neets the eye? Streams, forests, rocks, and hills; little flowers and lofty oaks ; plants which perfect tlemselves in a season, and trees which require ages to come to maturity." What would you think of one who should find fault because the willow had not the strength of the oak, or that the apple was longer in mathring its fruits than the cherry? And yet it would be just as reasonable as for you to find5 fault because some of your companions mature like flowers or early fruit, while you must wait, like the oak or the elm, for the perfection of your nature, - the realization of your desires. SHADOWS THE fairest flowers cast their shadows. God grant when the flowers of life have departed, that their shad- ows may not be left upon our hearts. COME TO AiE, ANGELS. 14 COME TO ME, ANGELS. Are they not all ministering spirits?" COME to me, angels; come when the sun From his couch riseth ; Then come from the Father, with food for my soul, Manna prepared by your delicate fingers, From the great storehouse Of wisdom and love; Feed me, O, feed me with wisdom and love. Come to me, angels; come when the sun On the earth looketh, Like a fond lover, with passion-lit gaze, Bendeth to give her his warmest embrace; Then come with caresses, And love's fondest kisses, Come with caresses and kisses of love. Come to me, angels; conime whe the sun For a while leaveth His bride to the care of the matronly moon, Who, with her maidens, will watch till the morn; Then come to my pillow, And ope with your touches The eyes of my spirit, your presence to scan. All the night long with you let me wander, Forgetting earth's care, And show me in vision the land of Elysian, That strength I may gather life's burdens to bear; page: 148-149[View Page 148-149] "8 MA YWEED' BL OSS OMS. And show me so plainly My errors and follies, That hence from the pathway I never may err. Come to me, angels, when waves of affliction Encompass me round, And thorns to my temple are pressed as a crown, Then come to deliver, or come to sustain, - To pilot ny bark Past billow and rock, To bear it triumphantly on to the port. O, come to me, angels, in grief or in gladness ; Come in all changes To which, as he passes, old Time can subject; Changes that bless us, whatever their guise; F Come with your living, Come with your giving, Give as the father is giving to you. And when our earth garments grow faded and worn, Come a I unclasp them; Unfetter the $pirit that longs to inherit A body immortal, to go where you dwell; Yes, core to me, angels, As heaven's evangels, And lead me from earth to heaven's bright portals. "And I saw another angel fly in the midst of heaven, having the everlasting gospel to preach to them that dwell on the :earth; and to every nation, and kindred, and tongue, and people." S fIZTWENTiY YEARS AFTER WARD. 1 49 ! TWENTY YEARS AFTERWARD. YES, twenty years had passed; twenty years, during which I had become motherless, a wife, mother, and widow ; and now I was to stand again upon the same old; place, and what a whirl of contending emotions filled imy soul! Uncle's home was near the school-house, and just by the old path that led across the hills to what had once been my home; the samu path I had travelled so often, and .hurried up the little ones when they larggd, by saying that bears lived in the woods, and I would catch them if they didn't hurry; and now I was to travel that path again -travel it to the same termi- nus, and what should I find? NIot my mother,for she had gone to the land of the hereafter; not my father, my brother, and my sisters, for they were scattered and far away. I had purposely prevented the friend to whose house I was going from coming for me, because it was " so little wqy across" that I could walk it- as welJ as not; but when the hour for starting arrived, aunt was very much afraid that my satchel was too heavy for me; she would (o and help me carry it. O, dear! must I be disappointed now, after allmy planning! This, matter of fact, practical, good soul could never be made to comprehend that her presence, even, and much more the sound of her voice, would be sacrilege in that hour. No, no, she must not go with i n; but how should I prevent it? She was so intensely kind and conscientious, that if she per!litted me to go without her assistance, and I slould get sick by the means, page: 150-151[View Page 150-151] 15Q MAYWEED BLOSSOIS. she would never forgive herself. I was just dn the point of giving up in despair, when she concluded that if I wert very slowly, perhaps it might not hurt me. With a great deal of alacrity, I assured her that I shohld go very slowly indeed, and hurried out, in order to get away before she should change her mind. How familiar everything looked, and y,et how strange! The freshness that I had carried in my heart all these years,was not reflected back upon me from tree, bush, nor hillside; and even the pebbles in the pathway stared, at me as if I was a stranger. And I was! I went aw sy a child; I had come back a woman: and how could they be expected to recognize me? I felt, but did not stop to analyze the why of all this, as I hurried on, wooing the warmth that did not come. Surely, when I reached the meadow, the orchard, the spring, and the rock, I should be at home then. Alas! -even here they had known only the child. A stranger still; I sat me down and wept. Here, right here, stood the log cot, that was to me "a cottage fair." It was gone; lht not the surround- ings, -the hills were the same; the fields and forests nearly so, - but sleeping away in the autumn sunlight, nor waking once to welcome me. Here was the grassy spot where once I laid me down, and tried to count the stars. Here it was still, and as green as ever, but somehow its beauty for me was gone. Yonder stood the old log barn, where I used to go to pray to the God they told me of, who didn't like bad girls; but lie didn't seem inclined to answer my prayers by making mc good, for, judging by the -standard of those about me, -I grew no better all the time. It, too, was gone! all f ' T}IWENTY YEARS AFTERWARD. 15 gone, together with the fence, beside which I used to 'hunt for the hens that stole their own nests - strange stealing that; if every one came as honestly by what they have as did those hens by their nests, .we should be a very honest people. The meadow was there, the same as in the past, but I didn't feel a bit like going around it on the top of the rail fence, as I had done twenty years before; and the ? hoary old rock" loomed up into sight just across the creek, but I was too sad even to go to it. O, dear! O, dear! Well, I had carried this land- scape in my heart for twenty years - carried it there hidden from sight, as one of the precious things of' earth; and now, as I brought it forth, it crumbled -- crumbled to dust, leaving me but the ashes of the dead past with which to enrich the living present. Yes, it had gone - gone from me as my childhood had. They belonged together, and what God had joined I could not separate. The first pang of disappointment softened., and I began to question. Is it not well, I ask, thai; this is so? If the sunshine, the. freshness of the past; dould remain to us, should we not lose very much of the present, and of the future also, from the too frequent; turning of our eyes backward? Ay, we should; and it is well that we are not per- mitted to overload ourselves with that which blooms in our pathway, Gone from the external life, both ouri childhood and its surroundings ; but, upon the walls of memory's crystal palace, they are stamped in colors of imperishable brightness, and knowing this, we are content. page: 152-153[View Page 152-153] THE RESURRECTION OF THE FAIRIES. THE fairies have risen Up ,into the skies, And are looking upon us With laughing blue eyes; The frolicsome fairies, The blithe little fairies, Are looking upon us With laughing blue eyes. With the earliest Spring They came dancing along; Earth blushed into beauty, The air breathed of song; They tripped on the green grass, They kissed the sweet flowers'; They sailed on the streamlet, They sang in the bowers. When the sunshine of summer Grew fervid with heat, The breath of their myriads Was coolingly sweet. As, with thunder their herald, And lightning their car, With the tenmpest for steeds, They came from afar. THE RESURRECTION OF THE FAIRIES 153 Came to make our pastures Spring up green again; Ca me to scatter gold dust On the ripening grain; Came to wind their ringlets Around the ears of corn,- Yellow, silken ringlets, By the fairies worn. When the matron, Autumn, Came with quiet grace, They heeded not her smiling; But when she veiled her face, Then the blithesome fairies Caine dancing o'er the lea, With the winds for music, Piping wild and free. But the cold breath of Winter Was borne on the blast, And the poor little fairies, They perished at last. Said Echo, in mocking, "They've perished at last; " And the bleak winds replied, "Dead and buried at last." But I dreamed last night, As I lay on my bed, That; the fairies no longer, No longer were dead. page: 154-155[View Page 154-155] 154 MAYWEED BLOSSOMS. Methought they had risen Up into the clouds, And were casting upon us Their tiny white shrouds. I woke, and the fields 'Were clothed all in white, 'And people were saying It had snowed in the night. But I thought of the fairies, 'With laughing blue eyes, And knew they had risen Up into the skies. DESPONDENCY. O, this aching weariness of brain; O, this heavy beating of the sluggish heart; And stagnant seems the current in my veins; Still, in life's struggle, I must bear my part. WHY mus mmy body hang, a leaden weight, upon my over-burdened soul? No, not over-burdened, else 'twould drop its load; 'twould sink and die, and thus escape the tprturing weight; but burdened, even to the last point of bearing. Hungry and faint, I stagger on, not falling quite, but reeling sometimes, till my eyes grow blind with dizziness. Hungry, and yet I see and feel the bread of life, in all the rich profusion of abun- dance, all about; so rich and sd abundant, while I feebly ! DESPONDENCY} 155 grasp but broken fragments that but half appease. Thirsy, and still the living waters lave my feet, I hear the soothing music of their rippling so'und, but O, they do not4 rise unto my lips, nor have I power to bring them / there. ' I feel like a young eagle, that, caged from birth, has never iknown of mountain height, or crag-topped eyrie, nor of the clear blue vault of bracing air beyond; -yet Nature's intuition's true; it beats impatient wing against its bars from morn till night. Caged, when I look upon th'e distant hills, and feel there is a beauty there I cannot fathornm Canged, when I gaze on fields and flowers, iand find a veil between me and tlfeir loveliness. Caged, when the surging sea of human life comes rolling by in mighty waves, for lo! I cannot grasp the chain that bind's them to each other; I cannot get into the stream of their magcnetic life. Yet I bhave held some hands in mine, have looked into some, eyes, and pressed some lips, to drink the cur- rent of eleptric wine, till my whole being seemed filled to its fulness full, and still I turned away and thirsted still. O God! is there no fountain that will satisfy, or being suich, must my caged soul be shut from it for- pver! Cease! cease I'll rest a while; I'll sleep; per- haps I thus may gain new strength to batter down these walls, and then I shall be free. page: 156-157[View Page 156-157] 156 MAY WEED BLOSSOMS. HEAVEN'S NEED OF EARTH. "And I heard the voice of the angel who spake unto me, saying, ' Come, and I will show thee that heaven hath need of earth.'" THE myriad hosts of the shining stars Sent a silvery stream of mellow light Through my half-closed window frame, While the night birds song, And the sweet perfume Of the opening rose, Was borne on the zephyr's wing To fan my brow, And to soothe my soul, As I dreamed of Miy angel home. Methought, from the land beyond the stars, That a wondrous angel came; The thunder rolled from his chariot wheels, And his steeds were the lightning's flame. In stature and form he was like a God, And his robe, of the purplest hue, i Was girdled about with a zone of light That looped it back from his vesture white, From his vesture white as the snow. The golden wealth of his flowing hair O'er his shoulders went rippling down; Went rippling down, like shimmering waves That the summer sun shines on. I EAVEN'S NEED OF EARTH. 157 His eyes were as blue as the bluest depths Of t the azure line vault above, And in them the look that I love to see In the eyes of the one that I love. With it graceful curb to his flying steeds, As the chariot wheels drew nigh, He caught my hand, and so6n by his side I sp;ed through the upper sky. Away, away through the upper sky; The thunder rolled from our chariot wheels, As we sped through the upper sky. On, ori we fled through the'measureless realms That lead to the great hereafter, While the thunder rolled from our chariot wheels, And our lightning steeds flew faster. Hark!! Another sound is falling, Falling gently on the ear; Borne ipon the wing of silence, Swedtly low, distinctly clear. 'Tis the 6utermost souhd Of the outermost wave Of the hnighty rhythmic ocean, Where the poetry of motion And the! poetry of song Roll their billowy swelli along, Bound together by the beauty Of the brand harmonic throng. page: 158-159[View Page 158-159] 158 - MAYW D E BLOSSOMS. Still faster flew our ligntning steeds, 4nd the billowy sounds grew stronger; But from the track of our chariot wheels ' The thunder rolled no longer, For softer than down From paradise birds Was the flowery way that we sped on, Till we came at length To the myriad hosts ; ho dwell in the land Elysian. Bat forms are vain, and words are weak; The choicest of their golden fruit, That e'er in pictured silver Hive been set, would fail to paint The matchless glories of that realm To which I, with my angel guide, Had come at length. Yes, words are vain. The purest, sweetest, loftiest flow That ever fell from mortal lips Would serve me but to weave a veil, Hiding therewith ethereal brightness. Would dim the radiance of these forms That, walking upon waves of light, Sink not, but rather rise and float, Attracting upwards that on which They tread. I gazed and drank, and drank and gazed, Drank with each quickened sense of bliss, Ecstatic bliss; drank till my soul was filled,', 'JQ HEAVEYN'S NEED OF EARTH. 15 Even to an aching fulness full; A fulness that, akin to pain, still strove, Yea, travailed to implant in other hearts The germs of that deep bliss which, Welling upwards, sought for place to o'erflow; For place! But where? For, lo! such heart Beat to the bounding pulse of heaven. Each' face reflected loveliness, Each eye beamed with the steady light Of ceaseless happiness. No want! No vicuum! Even the very air, Alive with thrills of harmony, And pressing close on every side, As lovers press the lips they love. No room! no room to store excess! Expand, my soul, and still expand, For still the swelling flood rolls on, To pour itself into thy being's depths! Bt h'ark! ay, hark! The sound that comes Like rolling thunder's trebled power, Softened to blend with zephyr's tone. Does oome new joy, still mightier Than the last, waken to new response, That thus the deepening swell quivers Through arches of eternal heights? Ay, hark the words!"'Tis found! 'ti found I A place where need exists; a need To which our fulness can apply." From the fountain of causation, Lo! attraction's gravitation page: 160-161[View Page 160-161] 160 MA YWEED BLOSSOIMS. Brings a germinal creation Forward to a glorious birth. And the morning stars are singing, And the sons of God are shouting, 'Shouting o'er the new-born earth, While the blending echoes deepening Tell how much the thought is worth. The thought, the certainty, that thus, Their energies shall find full scope, Ay, blissful scope, In leading up to heaven the race, The wondrous race that earth shall give. Full scope for angel powers to pilot through The pathway of their earthly life, Progression's pathway, where experience Sits enthroned as arbiter of fate,- To pilot through. the stinging thorns Of which/she plaits 4 crown for all, - To pilot and sustain a race Whose myriads none as yet can tell, "But myriads though there be, still, Unto us 'tis given," - 'twas thus they sang,- "To bring them all to this our heaven." ED BLOSSOillS. LO WHEN the moon hung high in heaven, And the little stars were peeping, Through the wealth of leaves and blossoms, With which spring the earth had crowned, Srt atmaiden on that earth, - Sat a maiden, where the tears Thiat heavens are'nightly weeping, t O'er the wants and woes bf moritals, Could not- fall upon her ringlets, For they hung upon the blossoms, Apple blossoms, overhead. Hung and sparkled in the moonlight, Hing and sparkled on the blossoms, Splarkling tears upon the blossoms, f Like the pearls on Beauty's breast. Still the moon kept on her journey, Still'the little stars kept peepinog Through the blossoms at the maiden, While the breath of angels, stealing OWer them, kept a constant falling, Till the earth was white around, And the maiden kept her watching, Patient watching, for 'twas given, Moons before, that aged apple As the trysting place of love. Moons had waxed from pointed crescents To the fulness of their splendor, page: 162-163[View Page 162-163] 162 ' JMAYWEED .BLOSSOMS. Waxed and waned again to crescents, As the rolling year went round,- Waxed and waned until the May moon Showed the brightness of its face, Making, since her William left her, The year of waiting all complete. For when last the apple blossoms Hung as now upon the boughs, 'Hung upon the boughs so lightly, That the breath of listening angels Scattered them upon the ground, He had stood beneath that apple, With his arm about her waist With her head upon his bosom, Resting fondly, yet in anguish, While they whispered words of parting, Words that wrung their hearts fill sore. "Linda, darling, I must leave you, - So my cruel father says; I have plead, -'tis worse than useless, - I must yield to his behest; Though I yield me but in seeming, For my heart will still be yours, And I'll sail across the ocean, To that land of w:hich he tells; I will go in outward seeming, Like to one that could forget; But the gold that he hath given Shall be spent a home to purchase, Then I'll come again for you. Linda, darling, you can trust me, , m I' ./L O VE'S ;TR IUMPI. L Though no word from me you hear; ' Should I write, they might discover And thus our'fondest hopes defeat.; But when next the apple blossoms Hang as now upon the boughs, Then come here again to meet me, For 'tis .then I'll come for you. Time is flying, I must leave you," Said he, as he stooped to kiss her, Kissed the hands he held in his, Kissed her eyes, her lips, her forehead, . Kissed her where an apple blossom, I3Bone upon a zephyr's wing, Rested on her cheek a moment, That their tints it might compare; Kissed her there, and then he left her, For he could no longer stay,- Left her for his father's mansion, Where the lofty .turrets rise, Telling of' their owner's greatness, Greatness such as wealth bestows, While she to the humble cottage, With its unpretending walls, Whitewashed in their simple neatness, By the goQd old gardener's hand, Turned her when retreating footsteps; William's footsteps,' to her ear Sent no more their faintest'sound. Turned her to the humble cottage, Sought her couch with snow-white spread, Fell upon her knees beside it, Gave to Heaven her hopes and featrs, page: 164-165[View Page 164-165] 164 MA Y AYVED BLOSSO MS. Gave herself into its keeping, Asked for hili protecting care, Who with her in heart was mated, Asked it all in trusting faith; Then in peace she sought her pillow, For her spirit was at rest; Slept in peace and woke to duty, With the morrow's rising sun. What had she, the loving hearted, She, the pure in heart and loving, What had she to dol with doubts? Had she not, a helpless foundling, Born of whom she never knew; Had she not in love been cared for, From her infancy till now? Had not God the Father kept her 1 All her life, and made her blest, And did not young William love her? Why should not her spirit trust? Yes, she slept and woke to duty, With an eye that beamed as brightly, And a foot that tripped as lightly, In and out the cottage door; J And her ringlets, in the sunlight, Looked as much like liquid wavelets, Bathing brow and neck and shoulder's,- Wavelets on which fays were dancing, Ringlets through which they were flinging, With their nimble fingers flinging Sparkling gems of golden light, And her cheeks were just as much like " "OVE',s TrIUiPl. 165 toses resting upon lilies, As when first she learned that William, Noblest youth in all the country, Loved her with an honest love. And just as eagerly did he, Young William's father, Lord of Linn, Who scorned it that his only son Had learned to love the lowly one, The foundling child who had been reared Within his gardener's humble cot; Ay, just as eagerly did he Gaze with his wolfish eye upon This pure and unsuspecting one, As he had gazed when William stood A guardian angel by her side. But William now is far away, Not there his watchful eye of love, To guard from harm the pure white dove, Not there his watchful eye of love: Is there, then, no eye that's watching, Fiendish wiles to be defeatiing? Foolish man, art thou so blinded With the sulphury smoke that's rising, Rising from the fetid passions Of thine own perverted nature, That with all thy fear hast parted, Of the present, oP the future, And in heart art boldly saying, I have laid my plans in wisdom, And my triumphing is sure?" On, nor pause in thy pursuing- i,: ' ' "* , page: 166-167[View Page 166-167] 166 MAYWEED BLOSSOIT[S. On, but know that God is mockling All the wisdom of thy planning, And the arrow thou art pointing , For the bosom of another, Shall be turned Upon thine own; Barbed, and turned upon thine own. But the question here arises, That if figs come not bf thistles, If from thorns, no grapes we gather, If the tiger's whelp's a tiger, And te eaglet like its sire, Why should Nature's laws, unerring, Be for man thus set aside? ' How could son of such a father Be so kindly, nobly true? Thistles, they seem worse than useless, Tend them hovvsoe'er you may; Tiger's whelps will be ferocious, Eaglets turn to eye the sun; But the thorn-tree, by the gardener, It may be so pruned and grafted, That its roots are found supporting Boughs that gracefully are bending; Bending with the choicest fruit. William had a noble mother, But her gentle, dovelike spirit Fainted in the thorny pathway That her feet were doomed to tread; Fainted, died, and left her darling To the father, whose unkindness Had so wrung her living heartstrings That for grief they snapped in twain. "OVE'S TRIUMPH. 167 Yes, she fainted, in the pathway, And the angels came and bare her Through the trackless realms of ether, Up to where the gates of heaven Open wide to give admission To the suffering ones of earth: Bore her through the shining portals, On to where the waters gushing From the throne of the Eternal, Living waters are a-hasting Onward to each distant portion Of His infinite domains. As, on the expansive bosom, Known Ats space, we find the centre Of each planetary system, I a sun, whose bright attraction' Keeps the planets circling round him, - Larger suns with larger planets, Greater in their number, too; So, amid the constellations Formed by sparkling emanatiofis, From the central sun of spirit, Known on earth as the Great Father, We find nuns of glorious brightness, With the lesser circling round them; All the Spirit Father giveth, To each one, are drawn unto them. Guided by the heart's attraction, Still the angels bore her onward, - Onward bore our William's mother, On to where the Man of Sorrows, page: 168-169[View Page 168-169] 168 -MAYWEED BLOSSOM1S. Once with thorns, but now with glory, Crowned as King and Priest forever, While new gems, of richest lustire, Still are added from our earth sphere, Gems that have been won unto Him, By His tears and bloody sweat; Bore her where He sat, the centre Of the myriads of millions, Central sun of stars unnumbered. For a moment the archangels, Who stood nearest to the throne, Rested on their golden trumpets, Gold refined till more transparent Than the crystal streams of earth, While the cherub and the seraph Paused them till the young earth mother Should receive her crown and blessing, And her place among them take. Lowly, filled with joy and wonder, Knell;,she at the feet of Jesus, Raised her eyes in mute appealing To that face so meek and loving, While in'tones most sweetly thrilling, "Daughter, what is thy petition?" Came from out his gracious lips. Once again that mute appealing, All the heart's desire revealing, While the blest Messiah smiling, Turned him to the hosts in waiting, - "Home is wheresoe'er the heart is; And the heart of this young creature, I - "OVE'S TRIUMPH. Angel now, but still a mothers Turneth td the budding blossom That was hers on earth to watch o'er, Asketh that she' still may guard it: Love hath granted her.,petition, Back, conduct her, waiting angels, To the home in which ye found her, And remain ye near to aid her In the earnest, patient labor, Which to love is purest pleasure." Backward through the realms' of ether, To the earth again they bore her; Then as myriads unnumbered Swept their harp strings, this the chorus Of the symphony they sang:- "In the earth beneath, On the heavensabove, There is naught so strong' As the chords of love; Love, love', love; Great is the triumph, The triumph of love." While the myraids in waiting Sent their answer onward rolling Through the countless courts of heaven, ' Rolling onward till its echoing Struck and thrilled upon the heartstrings Of the trembling ones of earth,- page: 170-171[View Page 170-171] , O , MAYWEED BLOSSOMS. "Can a molter e'er forget The child that 'neath her bosom slept? Yes, she may; but O, our Father, Thine's a love that lasts forever! Written on the living tablet Of thy tenderest' of hearts,. Are the names of all thy children, And thy love shall triumph yet." A lonely boy of summers seven i 'Stood by his pale dead mother, And strove, with thought beyond his years, His choking sobs to smother; , She's gone to the bright, bright world above, : She's gone to dwell with the God of Love, For so she said, but she is dead ; And his tears flowed on till the angel, Sleep, Kissed his eyes that le could not weep.\ ,He slept, and dreamed that his mother came To the side of his cou h, and called his name; She seemed to come from the viewless air, As she placed her hands in his clustering hair, And pressed to his lips, that thrilled with bliss, To his lips and brow, a mother's kiss. Yonder moon, that in her journey t Down the western skies went gliding, And the little stars a peeping Through the curtains at the sleeper, Saw the smile of joy that lighted 1 All his face, so sadly mournful,' As his mother came from -heaven, j aairh,,,,ra E. O VE'S TRIUMPIP. :171 Once again to be a watcher O'er the footsteps of her child. Yes, they saw, and winked, and twinkled, As they faded into daylight; - Moon and stars that into daylight Faded like that lovely vision From the eyes of William's spirit: Moon and stars were only covered, Only hid in depths of daylight, And the vision, just as real, Was noi covered, but the soul's eyes That had opened but a moment, They were closed and could not see. Yes, the vision it was real, - Real as the moon and stars were, Real as the morning sunlight Falling on the sleeper's eyelids, Waking him again to weeping, As he gazes on the copfin Where the dear, dear face is lying,- On the lips he's kissed so often, Death-cold lips that cannot bless him: Bitter, bitter, is his weeping, For he knows not that an angel O'er him now in love is watching, And will through his mortal life. In a little cottage, Standing by a brook, Where the very vine leaves Wore a quiet look; Sheltered from the sun's heat, page: 172-173[View Page 172-173] 172 . MA YWEED ,BLOSSOM S. Sheltered from the wind, By the hills and maples Rising up behind, Lived a gentle maiden, Like a lily fair; O'er her neck and shoulders, Waves of golden hair Flowed in rich profusion, While her modest eyes Were like unto the violets, Or like the summer skies. With her aged father, In this quiet nook, Lived the blithesome maiden, By the rippling brook; Rising with the day dawn, Singing like a lark, Through the hours of labor Till the shadows dark Stretched across the valley, Then she sought her couch, Slept in peaceful quiet Till the morning broke. Knowing less of evil Than the mourning dove Knows of hate, when singing Of her absent love, Like a placid river Flowed her life along, From the early morning Till the set of sun, LOVE'S TRIUMPH From the blush of spring-time Till the maple leaves Turined a golden yellow And sailed upon the breeze. But autumn hours Their onward flight are winging, * And thrifty vine Around a young oak clinging, With purple grapes In tempting clusters hanging, Has wooed the maid From out her fatherscottage. Her basket filled, Along the vale she wandered To where the stream Gave up its quiet flowing, And down the rocks In silver sheen went dancing; Her voice the while In tuneful notes is singing. Over the hills The hunter's horn is sounding; From rock to rock The frightened stag is bounding; In swift pursuit The deep-mouthed hounds are baying, As thus the maid Adown the vale is straying. page: 174-175[View Page 174-175] But dancing stream And her own gladsome singing So filled the air, ? She knows not of their coming, Till stag and hound, With hunter's steed behind them, In smoking haste Burst thro gh the glade upon hier. Like a frightened fawn She bounded away; Bult a loosened stone In her path that lay, As her flying feet To its surface pressed, Was torn from its hold, And the maid was cast To the rocks below, Where the silvery sheen Was changed to foam In thedancing stream. O, let her die now! It will be more sweet With the wreathing foam For her winding-sheet, For her spirit pure Thus to pass away, Than to wake again To the light of day; To the light of 'day, Such as earth bestows, Which shines but to blind To its bitterest woes. O, let her die now! And an angel smiled, As she tenderly bent O'er her fainting child; Smiled with the hope That the trusting heart Would never be pierced 'With' the poisoned dart, - With the bitter pangs 'That the innocent know, If they tarry long In this world of woe. O, let her die now! Yet again she cried, As the foremost steed With its rider she spied; For her eye, undimmed With the mists of earth, Could look at the heart In its moral worth, And the heart that beat In thatrgod-like form Was black as the clouds Of a coming storm, page: 176-177[View Page 176-177] But the panting steed Is riderless now, And, the youth has leaped To the rocks below, Has rescued the maid Ere her failing breath Had carried her quite To the arms of death ;: But the arms of death Would have given no pain, While these bring to life But to take it again. Qnce again the leaves of maple They have felt the frost king's kiss, Changing them to golden yellow, Or to gorgeous crimson hues; Once again the tempting clusters From the thrifty vine are hanging O'er the stream that goes a rippling, - Rippling, murmuring down, the vale,- Rippling o'er its pebbly bottom With a murmuring sound of sadness, 'For the merry-hearted maiden, Who along its banks went tripping With a; foot of airy lightness, Who along its banks went thrilling Music of such winning sweetness, That the birds their songs suspended, Pausing on the boughs to listen. She away, away has wandered, "O VE'S TRIUMPII. 1" Far away o'er hills and valleys, Searching for the recreant lover Who with gentle words had wooed her Where the torch, at Hymen's altar, Burns to light its devotees. But the torch, it was a false one, Held by hands as basely false; Power assumed by one who had none, Priestly robe and saintly face; Thus they lured the trusting maiden, Thus they snared her youthful feet; But the soul, in unstained whiteness, This their plotting could not reach. Though a lonely wanderer straying, Deemed by others fallen, fallen, Yet the soul, in unstained whiteness, Was caressed by pitying angels, Who went with her in the pathway, Leading her she knew not whither, On and on to where a mansion, Where a proudly towering mansion, Whence there cometh sounds of wailing, Meets ,her weary, weeping eyes. O, how lovely is the landscape Bursting on the wanderer's sight, With the mansion's lofty turrets Sparkling in the morning light; With the grand old wood beyond it, And the hills that gently rise, Till they blend them with the mountains Marked against the western skies: 12 page: 178-179[View Page 178-179] 178 MA YEEED BLOSSOMS. Wi th its valleys and its- meadows, Hedges, cows, and browning sheep, Wiah its little mimic ledges, Qver which the streamlets leap; Peasant's cot and thrifty farm-house, Towering oaks and graceful elms, And the church spire in the distance Seen beneath their spreading arms. But o'er all this scene of beauty Floats the sadly sighing breath Of a sorely stricken people; For the clasping arms of death Hold the lady of the mansion In their unrelenting grasp. This is why that thus 'there floateth On the air such sounds of wailing; This is why the lonely wanderer, With her hopes in dust a-trailing; This is why she sees them coming Thus from all the country o'er; They would look upon the features ' That from thence they'll see no more. Wait the Flora, by the hedge side, Scan their features one by one; You, perhaps, may find the truant Who has left you thus alone,- God of mercy 1 Yes, she sees him, Not among that peasant band, Not among the squires and farmers, But the lord of all the land; "O VE'S TRIUIMPIi. With his son and heir beside him, Mourning for his wedded wife, Dreaming not the sight is crushing, Crushing out another life. By the hedge side there they found her, Bore her to the gardener's cot; But her pulse has ceased its beating, And her heart it flutters not. To the earth a soul is given Heir to all its joy and care, She herself has fled to heaven, Is a white-robed angel there. O, lay it down softly Beneath the green sod, The casket, whence speedeth A spirit to God. No friend to be watching The place where it sleeps; No tears for that grave But such as night weeps; The heart, it was broken, But God is above, And sweet is the healing, The healing of love. O, love, love, love! We yet shall rejoice In the triumph of love. Treading in the steps of winter, Budding springs have come and gone: Come and gone, until the wee bud, page: 180-181[View Page 180-181] MAYWEED BLOSSOMS. Taken by the good old gardener From the hedge side, and transplanted To adorn his humble cot, Bloometh now a flower of sweetness Bloometh now a winsome maiden, Gladdening all who look upon her With the innocence of beauty, With the soft ethereal beauty, That so like a dream of angels, That so like the breath of seraphs, Itesteth on her fair young face. William, too, has grown to manhood,' But, though heir to yonder mansion, Though surrounded by temptation, Yet the ever watchful spirit Of his long since angel mother Hath so guarded all his footsteps, Hath so kept the spirit's portals, That the sweet perfume of virtue, Sweeter than the richest spices, Than the aromatic spices, From the unpolluted altar Of his heart, is daily rising Upward through the exhalations Coming from the fetid passions Of perverted human nature, Till, an atmosphere of darkness, They are hiding, almost hiding, The pure light of love supernal, Flowing from the throne eternal, Up to where the blessed angels Are. a-waiting, watching, waiting "OVLE'S TRIUMPUIP. \, i \(83 For some soul that openeth heavenward, - Upward rising, a conductor, Down which they are gliding, gliding With the blessings the Great Father, Through the pure in heart, is giving To his erring, earth-born children. As two rays of light Proceeding from the sun, As two drops of water, Mingling, make but one, As the rainbow's hues Are with each other blending, So every human soul Is to another tending. The heir of wealth and fashion Is turning from its glare, And seeking with the way flower His home and heart-to share; And heart to heart hath answered, Have mingled into one, For never once 'she dreameth He is her father's son. But angels are watching Their steps from above; The angels are guarding The pathway of love; For nothing can hinder The triumph of love.. . The moon, newhorn, a silver crescent Hung upon the western sky, page: 182-183[View Page 182-183] / l a)i MAYWEED BLOSSOMS. When the heart that went a wooing First received its heart's reply. Twice that moon had to its fulness Waxed, then waned to' disappear, And again it looked in brightness Down upon the vernal year, - Down upon the apple blossoms, Where the lovers, fond and true, Met beneath their spreading branches, Met their pledges to renew, Lingered in the air of midnight, Shrinking from the sad adieu. As the lamb from wolf is hiding, So are they from wolfish eyes; For their future hopes providing By foregoing present joys; Hearts, as open as the sunlight, Forced to wear a masking face; But thevdovbe will hide her nestlings, Lest -he vulture's eye should trace. Yes, they met, and pledged, and parted, There beneath the moon and stars, Linda to the humble cottage, William to the distant seas, Where the proud ship in her beauty Rides before the swelling breeze; But there's one who, o'er them watching, On t} eir hearts is shedding peace; One whose eye ne'er knoweth sleeping, One whose care can never cease; And though with eye exulting The vulture marks the dove, "O V0E'S TRIUMPH. 183 Believing he hath broken The shielding arm of love, iYet Love hath still her pathway Beneath the throne of God; No vulture's eye hath seen it, Nor lion's whelp hath trod. Apple blossoms, sweet May blossoms, Some have perished long ago; Some have changed them into apples, Where, the green leaves peeping through, They drink in the autumn sunlight, Till they turn a golden hue; Leaves of green, and golden apples Hidden half from view, When the moon is brightly shining, When the stars are on you smiling, When she thinks no eye is watching, Then the maiden from the cottage Comes to you. From her ringlets, Then you keep the falling dew. Watching, waiting for her coming, Brighter still the stars are shining On the pathway that is leading To the tree with golden apples,-- On the maiden moving down it, To that tree, with thoughtful footsteps, Till she passeth 'neath the shadows That its leavesto earth-are casting, Taking to themselves the, moonbeams That had else illumed the place. page: 184-185[View Page 184-185] 184 MA YWEED BLOSSOMS. hadows from' the green leaves falling, While the moonbeams through them glancing Seem like fairy hosts a dancing To and fro upon the grass. On the face of the .maiden There too is a shade, - The glimpse of a cloudlet Just ready to fly From the love light that shines In the depths of her eye;- 'Tis the shadow of absence Illumined by faith; A rainbow, it seems, Overarching her path,- A rainbow of promise, A symbol, 'tis given; It touches the earth, But it reaches to heaven. Sitting where the lights and shadows Chase each other to and fro, Thinking that no eye is watching, But the wolf may be a-prowling, When the lamb doth least suspect. Thinking that no eye is watching, While a look of holy trusting On her face is calmly resting, But the wolf her step is tracking, - Nearer, nearer he is coming, - Nearer, every moment nearer; Soon his fangs will be upon her, Soon his triumph will be sure. Sir Arnold's eyes are on the maid, And such the plans that he has laid, He hopes, before another hour, That he shall have her in his power, A victim to his cruel power. "But who are these protecting forms that came Since last I looked, or even while I looked, - For once I have not turned mine eyes away?" The hoary sinner questioned with himself. Three living forms, and yet she heeds them not; For, see! she draweth from its resting-place A likeness forth, then turneth to the moon, That by its light the features she may scan; A moment gazes, presses to her lips, Returneth it, then turneth to her home, But these remain; and why? A sudden fear Strikes like a dagger through the villain's heart; A dread of coming ill, a shrinking from The scroll on which, unrolled, he soon must gaze. 'Tis murdered conscience waking into life! The fig-leaf robe from off his trembling soul Her hand shall tear, and leave him thus to stand A -hideous form of loathsome nakedness, The nakedness of guilt. These still remains And one now slowly turns to meet his gaze. 'Tis William's self he sees. "You here?" he cried, page: 186-187[View Page 186-187] 8 i YB 186 MAYWEED BLOSSOMS. In tones that shook with fiercest rage. "You here?"- No other word his palsied tongue could frame; His lips, so late distort with anger's flame, Are blanched with terror now. Beside her son He sees the patient wife, who, years before Had yielded up her life beneath the power, The torturing power of his unkindness; There, too, the blue-eyed maiden of the vale, The long-forgottenr pastime of a day, By him forgotten, - God remembers all: The unloved wife, the broken-hearted maid, There side by side they stand, and on him turn Such looks of love and pitying tenderness, That thousand arrows, dipped in burning gall, 'Had pained him less. He strove, but could not fly, And e'en his eyes refused to turn away, But looked, and looked, till all had disappeared; Then, as the tension of his nerves gave way,. He sank to earth, nor rose till fading stars Announced the coming morn. At her approach, Back to his home he crept, like one accursed,- Back to the home whence, filled with guilty hopes, He had so late gone forth. But such is man; So* hard it is to break the bands made fast By years and years of persevering sin; A few short hours of troubled sleep, the light, The cheering light of day, and face of friends, Bring back the courage fled, unclasp the hand Of terror wildly clutching at his heart, ' And with an oath he vows that ne'er again I il Lo v'LOVE'S TRIUMPI. 187 Shall phantom of the brain his plans defeat. Mistaken man! There's one upon thy track, Whose swift pursuit thy struggles to evade Are vain. He seeks, and for his own will have Thine inmost soul: each idol there set up Shall be destroyed; his power shall batter down Each tower of pride, (efeat thy fondest hopes, Sharpen ea'ch staff thou turnest to lean upon, Till, stricken through and through, helpless thou fall'st Into the arms, the ever open arms, of love. / E'en now a message w its thee that shall rend Thy soul, e'en as the lightning rends the oak That hath so long withstood the storms of heaven. Thy son, thine only son, sent hence by thee, Lest he should wed him with the lowly one, And stain thus rest upon thine ancient. house, That son is lying in a stranger's grave! Sent hence by thee; but God hath used thy pride, Else he had been a victim to thy sin. In translucent robes of amber, As the sun is sinking low, See the lovely cottage maiden Lightly tripping to and fro; ".Can we tell her, Ca(n we fill her heart with woe?" Sighed the good wife, As they watched her come and go. "She must learn it, And 'tis better that we tell her now, Than some thoughtless hand Should strike the blow." page: 188-189[View Page 188-189] "O1 So they called her from her tripping To and fro. Coming in, she saw their sadness; At their feet knelt low; Knelt and listened to their tale of woe,- Listened with an air of absence, Pressed her hand upon her head, Sat a moment, softly murmured, He will meet me as he said;" Rose, and went about her labors, With reason fled. And the aged pair in silence Watched her come and go, Saw her foot had lost its lightness, That her eye had lost its brightness, From her cheek the rose had fled, Leaving but the lily's whiteness; Saw it all, and yet they spake not, Awed to silence by the bitter woe That thus could overthrow Proud Reason's throne, and so benumb her That she could not know the how, Or why, or even that she was laid low; But autumn days, They, one by one, have fled, And autumn leaves Are numbered with the dead, As thus her feet Their rounds accustomed tread; And autumn winds That whistled round her head, Or kissed the lips That still would murmur " He will meet me as he said;" These have cold and colder grown, Till, changed into the piercing blast, They chase the flying hours of winter past, The flying hours that seem to linger As we wait their last. The last has come and gone And spring is here, And in the maiden's eye New light appears; Her feet regain their airy lightness, And on her cheek of lily whiteness The apple blossom's tint is stealing, For with joy's ecstatic feeling She hath marked their swelling buds, Tokens of his coming near; Will their bursting fragrance Bring him here? Ah, she doubts not, and she lives But in faith's unquestioning bliss, Dead to every sense but this. Now again the hour of even Marketh full the rolling year; Now as then the moon is sailing Through the azure vault of heaven; Now as then the stars are peeping Through the wealth of leaves and blossoms, On the couch with snow-white spread, On the pillow that shall never More be pressed by her young head; page: 190-191[View Page 190-191] For beneath the spreading branches, With the moonbeams dancing round, There she sits in patient watching, There she sinks to sleep profound, Sinks into a dreamless slumber; As he promised he hath come, And her spirit hath gone with him To their far-off, final home; Love hath triumphed, Love prepares for them a home Where no ban of kindred blood Twixt the bridegroom and his bride Can ever come. In the morning there they foutndher, With the apple blossoms round her, Mingling with her golden hair, Drifting in her neck and bosom, Wreathing form and arms around, For the angels Came and decked her couch of bridal, As she lay in sleep profound. An aged man, With grief and care oppressed, With snowy white beard Low hanging on his breast, Came by that morn, And sat him down to rest Close by the gardener's gate, - An aged, wayworn man, Within whose eyes there was a look Of yearning earnestness, As if he sought and sought, But never found, and still Was seeking the wide world round. He listening sat To those who, gathering there, Talked but of her whose form Lay cold and still within ; Told of her beauty, goodness, truth; Said she had died for love; Spake of her birth mysterious, How she was found, long years before, With her dead mother's form, The hedge beside, as she gave forth The first faint wail of infancy: To this he listened, then arose, And asked to look upon the dead. Some wondered, others led the way To where, in stricken loneliness, She lay. One look he gave, One groan of agony, then fell, So cold and still her form beside, They deemed he too had died; but soon He woke again, and wildly cried, - "Say, did I dream, or did I see my bride, My Mary's form, as she in beauty lay, Ere death had snatched her from my arms away?" Then passed his withered hand across his brow, And sighing, said, " O, I remember now The tale you told of a young mother's death, The hedge beside, when first her babe drew breath; O, say! is there no sign, No token left to tell page: 192-193[View Page 192-193] 92 E AMAYWEED BLOSSOMS. ' Why this, her child, should wear The face of her I loved so well?" " They brought a ring, "'Tis hers!" he cried; "It was her mother's bridal ring, Who, dying, left it as a legacy To our one precious child. I kept, And placed it on her hand the day she wed; A villain placed another there, Then stole the one he gave, and fled; And she went forth in search of him, And I of her. From that sad day To this I've searched, and now I trace Her mother's image in her dead childl's face ;" And then the wail wrung from his bitter grief, "Why did just Heaven permit such cruel wrong? And yet 'twas kind to give in death relief. , -Flora, darling, thou art now at rest, Thou and thy mother dwelling with the blest; And this, thy lonely child, hath joined thee there, [ While I remain a lonely wanderer here. A lonely wanderer, but 'twill soon be o'er; I have upon the earth but one wish more, i To look aga' n on him who wronged thee so. Hush! no, I will not curse him, no; I I told thee tfiat I would not, years ago; But I would look again upon his face. O, God of love I My prayer is heard 1 He comes!' The crowd: that erst had gathered close, X i\ Now parted to the right and left, and, Leaning on a servant's trusty arm, L I' Sir Arnold made his way towards the dead. "O VE'S TRIUMPIL 193 When, he heard that they had found her Lying where he last had' seen her On that fearful night in autumn, A strange yearning filled his bosom * Once again to look upon her, Ere her face was hid forever, And thus with faltering steps he came; And thus they met, the wronging and the wronged, And thus he learned, that man of siIp, That she whom God had shielded ' * : From his wolfish wiles, was his own child. Blow after blow upon the selfish heart! 'Twill break at last, Then Love can enter to complete her task. A few more days, and bared again the breast Of mother earth, that to their final rest The weary head and aching linibs ' Might, now at length, be borne,- i The weary head and limbs are free from pain, While on his couch Sir Arnold turns in vLain To woo the peace that conscience frights away, From setting sun, e'en till the opening day, No sweet repose for aching heart and head, The dove of peace broods not the guilty bed. The dove-of peace! how could she linger where The echoing tones of unforgiven wrongs, Like murdered ghosts, are floating on the air To fright her with her sad complaining songs? i The light of life, its purest joy is love, The souls, from out whose earthly life his hand page: 194-195[View Page 194-195] if 194 IA YWEED BLOSSOMS. Had plucked that light,-were in the spirit land, And he so near its verge, the wall of clay That intervened might any hour give way, - So neat its verge, that those he deemed had fled, E'en now were hovering round his restless bed. Should glittering knife, with a dissector's care, The quivering nerve and artery lay bare, While yet the life within the throbbing veins In all it sfull intensity remains, To paint the quickened agony of pain, Should mortal tongue attempt, 'twould be in vain; But these, the wronged ones, as they lingered near, Of his past life were whispering in his ear, Dissecting every act with sword so keen, That soul and spirit it could pass between, Producing anguishi, that exceeds as far The pangos of flesh, as bright-eyed noon Exceeds the faintest glimmerings Of the morning star. Is this Love's work? you ask. Shall those who bathe in that eternal sea Come back to fill earth's erring souls With more than mortal agony? Is this the work of L6ve?' The mighty God, Our God himself', is love; but none the less :When his swift coursers to his thunder car He chains with lightning links, And rushes on to elemental strife, . Than when, with smiling sun and falling dew, lHe kisses back the blushing flowers to life. *1 "OVE'S TRIUfMPI'. 195 Within the soul there is a fountain hid, Whose waters have the power to make The wounded spirit whole. This Love would reach; But if she find that granite rocks o'erlie, And adamantine walls surround, May she not drill and pierce and tear, With shivering blast, those barriers hence? O, holy Love I Thy labor is iot lost; Though for a while, like rain on burning sands, It sinks from sight: The final triumph, when it comes, Shall make all earthly wrongs aright. And come it must; for see, The heart, the heart is reached at last, And upward well repentant tears, Repentant tears, hailed by those waiting ones With greater joy than new-made sire Ere hailed his first born's cry. Those waiting ones, -not long they'll wait, For full fruition's nigh. The new-born soul A moment lingers on the shores of time, , Then passes over to their outstretched arms. 'Twas him they sought, not his, And they have won. O, love, love! All conquering love! Another soul Owning thy sway, now drinks, And shall forever drink page: 196-197[View Page 196-197] From that unfathomed sea, Whose waters flood creation through and through, While maiden, wife, children, and all Upon whose earthly hearts were laid The keen maternal pangs that gave It birth into thy fadeless realm, Co-workers with the Infinite, shall share With Him the never-ending bliss; The never-ending bliss, but just begun, For, as their loving arms enclose him round, Swifter than meteor through the vaulted sky, Upward they vpeed them to the eternal throne, Where, bowing with their love-won gem, New splendors fall upon their dazzling crowns. While, from those congregated hosts Of million millions multiplied By myriad millions, and by millions still, A myriad shining ones arise, Till, hovering o'er them, poised upon the wing, Their varied hdes of differing glory form A rainbow arch, on whose resplendent front Flashes in lines of living light, "Behold, behold love's triumph now!" And then, as fire-flakes from love'd burning sun Fall inward on their hearts, away they speed On kindred missions to our darkened world. Some, as they go, seek but for single souls, And some the pulses ofi a nation's heart. NWith the sweet deWs of peace, Or with the cannon's thunder, Which e'er they must, they'll use; To burst the bands asunder, The'bands of ignorance and wrong That bind us round. When, 'neath the dews of 'pece The clusters grow and ripen, When, of the coming war Rumors are heard to frighten, Or when, 'mid clashing steel, The wine-press trod by Love alone, Reaches the bridle bits in blood, Not then, not then the end; The final triumph is not yet, For it shall bring a world redeemed To deck love's jewelled crown. page: 198-199[View Page 198-199] CHARITY. FOUNDED ON FACTS. CHAPTER I. L A WOMAN OF PRINCIPLE. TWENTY-FIVE years ago Cleveland was not as large as now. True; but it was large enough to contain the rich and the poor, the oppressor and the oppressed, the virtuous and the vicious, the time-server, and those who sacrifice all for the RIGHT. One of this latter class had just finished a day of toil, and was preparing for the evening walk, that, when cir- cumstances permitted, she always took at the close- of a day's confinement- to the long rows of figures in the merchant's ledger, for even then-twenty-five years Rago -this woman was fearless enough to fill what was called a man's position, and through the favor of one who knew her worth, and what she had sacrificed fo t principle, she held the place and received the wages of an account:ant in a store. Ten years before, Marion Tracy, then but eighteen years of age, and the petted child of wealth, became the bride of Lorain Reid, head clerk in her father's store. Her parents opposed their union; he was poor, and what was worse, had imbibed the "pernicious doctrines" C. 2tARITY. 199 of the Garrisonian school. In short, he was an aboli- tionist; he believed the black man had rights as well as the white man; that slavery was not a d'vine institution. This heresy so incensed Mr. Tracy, tlat, but for the efficiency of young Reid, he would have dismissed him from his employ at once. The daughter, however, did not feel as did the father. Marion listened to the eloquent words of her lover, as he painted the wrongs of the black man, till her soul Iecame fired with the desire to do something towards breaking their chains, and when, in opposition to her. father's wishes,-yea, commands, -she married the ".young fanatic," as he was called, and was banished from her paternal roof, she went forth courageously, ,believing that the right would triumph. The young couple found a home in the south part of the State, went to work hopefully, cheerfully. In due time two lovely children, two bright-eyed girls, were born unto them. But the black man still groaned in chains, or fled at fig-ht through the land of boasting, towards the land of freedom, and Mr.- Reid's home became an underground railroad depot, and himself one of the principal conductors, till at length he so exposed his health, in making extra exertions to save a company of fugitives from the human bloodhounds that were close upon their track, that he sickened and died. Their property was not wholly clear from in- cumbrance, and the vampires of the law swooped down upon it, used it in litigation, while the widow and the fatherless were left destitute. "I guess Mrs. Reid has had enough of abolitionism by this time," said those who hated, while forced to io page: 200-201[View Page 200-201] 200 MA rWEED B OSSOMS. admire her intrepid spirit. "Guess she'll have enough to do to take care of herself and children, without minding other people's business, now." "Before I'd expose my life to save a lot of niggers " ' l But Marion,while these Qruel remarks were being made, was watching over the sick bed of her youngest darling, for her cup of grief was not yet full; or may we not rather say that the husband,whose heart was so knit to hers, stilll willed to share her. burdens by calling one little one to himself?, So at least it seemed to the stricken mother, for when, with outstretched arms and a glad smile little Nellie called "PapaI papa!" and ceased to breathe, S MarioA murmured, "It is right that papa should have one with him; he can care for thee, darling, better than, I can." So she wiped her tears, buried her dead from Ai sight, and people saidthat she had no feeling for any- body but a" nigger." *; But Marion failed not when they, looked for her to fail. Their shafts fell harmlesg7 at her feet as' she ,gathered herself anew:for the confltt; and those who called her unfeeling because she wept not her strength away; and unwomanly because she sat noti down in helpless dependence, knew not what they said, - knew not the soul of her whom they maligned. . But it was not of Marion Reid's trials and victories that I sat down to write; she is not the heroine of my story; but even in her case we may see :the lack of "charity;" that charity, without which the great Apos- tle to the Gentiles said he was nothing; w. can see liI even in her case how prone we are to misjudge, the motives of others. I say we; for who among us is I guiltless in this respect? ,i { t{i CIIARITy. 201 "Mrs. Reid," said Mr. Whitney, her employer, as Marion prepared to leave the store one evening, some three months after she" came to the Forest City, and found employment therein sufficiently remunerative to support herself and child comfortably, - "Mrs. Reid, do you walk to-night?" I think I shall. It bids fair to be a beautiful sun- set -just clouds enough to make old Sol look grand as he dips into Lake Erie." Could you not forego your sunset view and make a call?" "Where?" "There is a fanmily living in one of Simpson's houses, a mother and three daughters, that I would like to know something about, but I cannot visit them." "Why not?" "Because I am a man, and the charitable ones have got it into their heads that they are not what they should be." / Marion looked at the merchant with a curious smile. "No, it is not that, Mrs. Reid. I am not a coward; but it injures them. The eldest daughter is very, very beautiful; and having imbibed the idea that she is not ' virtuous, people seem to think that she is irresistible, and the larger the number they imagine she brings into her toils the greater the indignation against her; there- bre, for me to seek the acquaintance'of the family would only be to their disadvantage; but if the observation and experience of my life so far- and I count myself a close observer - if' y past experience is .worth -any- thing, those women-they count the mother in with the daughter -are innocent." page: 202-203[View Page 202-203] q *l ' 202 MA YWEED BLOSSOMS. "You spoke of three daughters." True; but the second one is only fourteen, a crip- ple, and, they say, sweet and pure as an angel; while the other :is but a childtyet." believe them, why are they so talked about, and why do they think the second one any better than the other?" "That is what I wish to find out. No one seems to know anything of them positively, only that the lame e ---sh cann ot w0":, surroundin gas." , i .1 S one she cannot walkr without a crutch goes fre- quently to church,while the others not; an they say that her very look is heavenly, and that she cannot be lon for this orld, nd the church of which she is a member sv they pray God to tke, her hone to him- self, that she may thus, escape the contaminantions of her - snunity she, may thmus, o ncna;Sh surromundin'gs." She belong s to the church, then?" "Yes, she was gathered in during the recent revival." "Are' .you alone in your opinion of these people?" No; I have heard severa! gentlemcn cxprcss the same; but the verdict of the fe'male portion of the corn- inunity seems unanimously aginst them." And so you, a man, knowing how much a woman's character is worth, and how easily tarnished, would advise me; a woman, to seek, out these people and form their acquaintance." ' Fief fie! Mrs. Reidl; you know there are some characters that fire cannot' scrchl, nor water drown. e You are one of th/)Se tlatcollpld waldk in the midst of pitch and not de, le your arlments. You surly are not, afraid to take the step I propose?" N* llo, not tfrtaid If a sister womnal is Suffring iSl- u No not aUAL r1 CHARITY. 203 I justice, I have sacrifided too much for the righlt, to be afraid; but it seems to me that those gentlemen you speak of, in connection with yourself, might do more for them than one woman, single-handed, can." ' "I tell you we can do nothing ; the soh of one of my old friends, Williaim Holden, became acquainted with this girl, believed in her innocence, and, tlinking to vindicate her, took her to a party, and when she entered * the ball-room, every lady left it, and William has been I sent away by his father, ostensibly because his business needed some one interested therein to take charge of it in New York, but realy that hle mnight be beyond her filscinations. William told me, with tears in his eyes, the day after taking her to the ball, that lie did not believe there was a purer girl in the city thain Helen Merrill," . i "The name is Merrill, then?" That ib the name of the two eldest daughters; but the woilan's name is Taylor; she has been twice mar- ried, I understand." . "You seem to know something about them, after all." NTothing more than I have told you, further than i that they lived awhile in another part of the city, in a house belonging to a noted libertine, but a wealthy man, and as near as I can learn, most of the stories have originated with him." "And! you really believe them innocent?" "Do you think I would ask you to call there if I did not?"' "Why not?" "TWhy not! "Yes, why not? If I possess the power you attribute I . ,1 page: 204-205[View Page 204-205] to me, might I not possibly be a benefit to them, even if guilty? Might I not, by showing that all hearts are not shut against them, lead them back to the path of virtue? Surely the mother and sister of 'sucl a one as you have described the lame one to be cannot bo wholly depraved. If they are innocent, they deserve friends, and if guilty, need them; and I shall most certainly make their acquaintance." "But how will you manage it? Judging frotn their appearance, I should not think theln very approachatle; and the proud reserve they manifest is one thing that leads me to believe them innocenl." "That's just like a man; set a- woman to do what they dare not undertake' themselves, and then, when she accepts the challenge, begin to suyggest difficulties." "Well, well, don't laugh at me, and 1 will leave the case wholly in your hands." "Not till you have told' me where to find them." "O, I forgot that. They live in the pretty white cottage on C-- Street, No. ---, I think it is; you will know it by its standing back from the road all alone, and by the elm in front." ' l "What I that little bird's nest? I have often noticed it. Just the place for innocence to nestle in. I should as soon think of associating heaven and hell, as guilt with that place, but how came Simpson to build such a residence for a tenant house? It doesn't seem a bit like him." "He did not.' It belonged to a poor widow who was unfortunate enough to become indebted to him, and report says that he took it from her unfairly.. The poor woman grieved so at having to give up her home that she did not live long afterwards, and. report further says that since her death she has haunted the house. It is certain that those Who went there did not stay long, till at length no one would live there. Simpson had not been able to find a tenant for nearly a year, before these people came, and he has' tried in vain to sell it; so, if he did come by it unjustly, it seems to be doing him but little good." "Glad of it; I wish every one who obtains property unjustly might get as little good of it." "But you do not believe in the superstitious notion of haunted houses, Mrs. Reid?" "Why not? Qod has more ways than one to make the wickedness of the wicked return on their own heads. But if I am tp, form the acquaintance of these people, I must commence at once. You have interested me in them, and I shAll now pursue the inxestigation for my' own sake. I shall walk in that direction, find some excuse for calling, and trust me if I don't get at the bottom -of this matter." "Trust a woman for anything she undertakes." "A truce to all such compliments, and good niglt. I must work as well as talk." "Good nighlt, and God grant you success," murmured the merchant, asj he looked after her retreating form, theni turnled again to his desk. The next morning Marion was at her place as usual. "Well, what success?" said Mr. Whitney, as soon as he found opportunity to approach her on the subject of the previous day's conversation, unheard by others. "Good," was the reply. "You called, then? page: 206-207[View Page 206-207] 206 J MAYWEED BLOSSOMS. "Did I not tell you I should?" "I know you did; but saying and doing are so often two things, that I thought-" ' That I was a woman of words and not of deeds." Not that, but feared that you might procrastinate;, you know we are apt to put off disagreeable things." "Tlis was not disagreeable to me in the least. You aroused my interest in those people; I thought it. a pity and shame that in a city like this, where there are so many professed Christians, that there should be none to defend them if innocent, or to care for their souls if guilty. Circumstanced opened the way for my calling there, without any effort on my part, and not only that, but gave me access to their hearts, and I mean to make the best of the opportunity thus afforded me. It seemed as if the hand of Providence was in it." "How? In what?" "Why, the little girl,'the half sister that youe spoke of, had been sent by her mother to some place of an errand. The child, a sweet girl of seven years, had by some means become bewildered, and could not; find her way back. She was crying when I first saw her, and upon inquiry, she told me that she was Mrs. Taylor's girl, and lived in C-- Street, in the little house with a big tree by the gate, but that she could not find,it. I remembered the name and the description of the. place that you gave me, and concluded this to be the child of the woman I was seeking, and so it proved; so you see ;hat when we wish to do good, the angels open the way." I "It would seem so; I wish, Mrs. Reid, I could feel as you do. Your trusting faith is beautiful; but I find OCIARfrE 207 nothing to build a like one upon. The world, and even the chuch, is so full of suspicion there is so much injustice and so little charity, that I' feel sometime as if there was no God, no heaven; indeed, not a syting worth trusting in or living for." s there not goodness, justice, and charity also?" "I suppose there is, though I find so little of it. But what do you think of those people?" I have not made up. my think' yet. I am an investigating committee at present, and will report when I have obtaind ufficent evidence for such a pro- And I, meanwhile, must wait?" Certainly. Well, as I, cannot help nyself I shall abide by your decision." CHAPTER IT THE TRACT DISTRIBUTORS. ONE Sunday morning in December, 1835, the fol- lowing notice was read from the desk, occupied by the Rev Mr. Schoolc raft: S "The members of this church are requested to meet in the xest are requeste( to meet in the vestry on Tuesday evening next, in order to devise some mhearns by which religiou re dig be crca..] [ated through every portion of the city." I....i"ii - J!" page: 208-209[View Page 208-209] )8 SI MAY EED BLOSSOMS "And now, friends," continued the reverend gentle-- an, still holding the notice in his hand, and now, "And now, friends," continued the reverend gentle-- man, still holding the notice in his hand, "and now, friends, nay, more than friends, brothers in the cause of Christ, and sisters beloved, I beseech you that there be a full attendance. Think of the importance of the work to be performed--nothina less than to furnish religious reading to this great and growing city. While the enemy of souls is going about seeking whom he may devour - while his emissaries are actively engaged, in leading souls astray - while the theatre draws its victips -while the gambler watches for his prey - while y- low-covered novels, filled with corruption, find the;r way into the hands of our young people- while t c rumseller sends his customer staggering home to his innocent wife and babes-and while the wiles of her whose 'steps take hold on hell'are constantly leading our young men into the path of destruction-while these, all these things are being done under our veocy eyes, what are we doing to stein the tide of corruption? Nothing, comparatively nothing. To be sure, we pray, and profess our faith in the saving efficacy of the precious blood ol Christ, but what are prayers and faith without works I And of what avail will our professions be, if we do not practice! I tell you, friends, that there is something more at stake in this thing than merely the interests of others; momentous as these may be, they are not all, for our own eternal safety is involved therein. Not that I would teach reliance upon works; far be it from me; I know that salvation comes through faith in Christ; but, friends, it must be a living faith. We must have the spirit that was in Christ, the love divine that constraincth us to labor for others. And besides, look at the exceeding great reward! He that converteth a soul from the error of his ways, hideth a multitude of sins.' Poor miserable sinners that we all are, who is there that does not need such a covering! What are a few, paltry dollars, and a little time spent in this cause, if even one soul can be saved? I propose, brethren, to take up a collection for this purpose just now, while the subject is fresh in our minds. Brother Wilkins and Brother Smith, please go through the con- gregation, and receive what the friends are willing to bestow in so worthy a cause. Remember, it is to fur- nish religious food to send into the highways and i hedges - not the food that perisheth, but that which gives eternal life; not that which is to sustain these vile, bodies, but that which feeds the immortal soul; and remember also, that' there is he that scattereth and yet, increaseth, and he that withholdeth more than is meet, and tendeth to poverty. The liberal soul shall be made fat.' The choir will sing while the collection is being taken, and then I will address you from these words, found in First Corinthians, xiii. 13: 'And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.' And may the God of all grace help us to practise the charitywe preach." Many were the comments made, during that and the two following days, upon the piety and zeal of the ,new pastor. "Suriely the cause would prosper in such hands." The collection was good, and the meeting on Tuesday evening well attended. After due deliberation, it was decided that the city should be divided into dis- tricts, and the sisters, going two by two, should, as far as possible, visit every house and every family, and page: 210-211[View Page 210-211] 210 MAYWEED BLOSSOMS. leave such religious tracts as appearances indicated were needed. Another meeting was agreed upon for the sis- ters to arrange their committees, and appoint their fields of labor. In the mean time, the brothers were tp fur- nish funds, purchase tracts, and give such information as they thought beneficial in advancing the cause. The minister was in earnest. Naturally of an active temperament, with warm, strong feels, and being religiously educated, those feelings of course found vent in that direction. He was full of zeal, and, like the prophet of old, could not hold his peace; he thus be- came a focus, a sort of central sun for the tiinds he came into more immediate contact with, sending forth his warm, magnetic life into theirs, quickening them to action, till soon the church was all aglow with life. The city, even to the very outskirts, was canvassed, pages containing words of counsel, warning, or entreaty were left with every family, reports were brought in, and the time set for another general visit of the same nature, Mr. Schooleraft counselling in the mean time a series of prayer meetings. "We have sown the seed," said he, "but God only can give the increase; let us meet and pray for 'Showers of grace divine,' that our labors may not be in vain." And sco tri-weekly prayer meetings were appointed, the circle of magnetic life deepened and broadened till the rooms overflowed with anxious inquirers, even till scores were added to the church, and amongst the num- ber Eloise Merrill, the cripple, and sister of the beau- tiful Helen we have before spoken of. f- 2" The child for she was but a child as yet-had 8 t CIARITY. cy been induced to go t first by a neighbor's daughter and becoming interested, the mother or Helen some- times accompanied her. But while Eloise was always greeted with kindness and warmth, there was somethin in the atmosphere that so chilled Mrs. Taylor and Helen that they soon ceased entirely to attend; though loath to deny their darling aughtthat could add to h lah iness, they still permitted Eloise to go, till in time she was baptized, and became an accepted member of the society. Sweet Eloise, innocent as an angel, she dreamed not, as yet, of the dark suspicions that hung arpund her mother and sister, and wondered why they did not love to attend church as well as she did. The time set for another exploration of the city had expired, and again the tract distributors brought in their reports. Some brought in goodly accounts of success, and some said there were giant evils in the place that could not be overcome. Some were hopeful, and some were desponding; but we have principally to do with the minister',s mother, M rs. Schoolcraft, who resided at the parsonage, her son being nma ied and a maiden k married, and a maiden lady of some forty summers by the name of Prudence Crowell. u These ladies had labored together, and, after giin , in their testimony on other loints, Mrs. Schoolcraft said, "Now, ladies, I have something very sad to tell you," while Miss Prudence put her handkerchief to her eyes as if to hide the tears she wished to shed. The ladies looked up inquiringly, and Mrs. Schooecraft con- tinued . Yo"o know that sweet lamb of our flock, Eloise page: 212-213[View Page 212-213] 212 I1AYWIEED BLOSSOMS. Merrill, and the dark suspicions that hang about the conduct of her mother and sister. It is one of the mys- teries that such a lamb should dwell in the very den' of the wolf; still no one can look upon her pure, spiritual face Without feeling that she is one of Grod's elect, and he will doubtless take care of her. But perhaps you have not generally known why we believe this wonman and her eldest daughter vile; and, lest you 'may think us mistaken, or lacking in charity, I will tell yoXu: Spending, much of my time, as you know, among the sick, last October I learned that ,a, poor woman was occupying an uncomfortable room on B -- Street, with a sick child, and, further, that she was a stranger in the city; therefore I felt it my duty to call on her. I there found this same Mrs. Taylor, with scarcely the comforts of life about her, and our Eloise quite sick. I made some inquiries into her circumstances, asked if I could be of any assistance to her, &c., &c., all of which she received quite coolly, thanked me for my kindness with a manner as proud as a queen, but thought shi He could get along without aid at present. I then turned to the little one, and she looked so sick that I really thought she could not live, and I began ,to talk to her of Jesus, when the mother interrupted me by saying that the childlwas weak, and she did not wish her to lbe disturbed or to have her mind excited on any subject. 'But, madam,' said I, 'this child may die, and without -the salvation that Jesus gives she is lost; she is not too young to understanLdthe story of the cross in its sim- plest form, and if you will not yourself accept the pearl of great price, do not withhold it from your child.' And what do you suppose was her reply?" i} C.1HARIT Y. 213 Here Miss Prudence gave a sob, and Mrs. School- craft after pausing a moment to mark the effect of her words, continued:- "It was this : I hope I have found the pearl of com- mon sense, and I tell you I will not have my child dis.- turbed.' I have no words, ladies;, to paint my feelings as I looked upon that apparently dying child and upon that heartless mother.' I left the house, praying that God would have mercy upon them all." j And it seems that God heard you in behalf of the child at least," said Mrs. Deacon Barnes. Surely we 'should take courage when we remember her providen-. tial restoration to a state of health that would admit of her coming where she could hear the works of salva-. tion. "That we should," replied Mrs. Schoolcraft; "but tct go on with my story: In December, when we were. first appointed for the blessed work in which we are now' engaged, where do you suppose we found this woman? In a pretty cottage nowned by Stanford, onfe of the most noted libertines in the city, and it was well furnished with all that was needed to make one comfortable, and ' Stanford himself had just left the house. Now, my sisters, what could we infer from this change? For my part there was but one conclusion that I could come to, and I t1ell you it made my heart ache; but I felt that I must do my duty, so, nerving myself for the task, I uttered such words of warning againstD sin as I could command at the moment; told them that God's love and mercy extended to each and all; that no sin was so great but, if repented of, would find forgiveness. But I might just as well have talked to stones, for all the page: 214-215[View Page 214-215] 214 M1AYWEED BLOSSOMS. impression, I could make; and were it not for the story of Mary Magdalene, and the words of Jesus in refer- ence to the woman taken in adultery, I should think that there was no hope for such creatures. But I have not told all yet: I left some tracts upon the table, and as we passed through the gate I heard Mrs. Taylor say, 'Don't do that, Helen.' Sister Crowell here, lodked, back. The door was standing open, and she saw Helen putting the tracts into the stove; sh you see that the daughter is even more hardened that the mother." "It seems to me," said Miss Prudence, " that I could put a stop to such doings had I the law-making power. Why, I would shut up every woman that wouldn't be- have herself; they should be kept in close-confinement, and not permitted to lead our sons and brothers ast:ray. It's a burning shame in a Christian land." "And 'that brings me to another point," said Mrrs. Schoolcraft;, "and no doubt it is the thought of what I amr now about to relate that drew the last remark from sister Crowell. It seems that by some means the only' son of one of our most respectable citizens, though not a member of this church, became acquainted with this Helen Merrill, and .ws actually so infatuated with her that he attempted to take her into company in spite of her reputation. It almost broke the hearts of his parents. Their remonstrances only made him angry, lie declaring his belief in her purity! IPurity/ when s Stanwood boasts indirectly of his success. True, he QU calls no names, but he intimates plainly enough who is intended. Finding that William would not hear to reason, Mrs. Holden wrote to a brother in New York v1 city, and they managed between them to find a situation , A ClARITY. 215 for himn, in a business in which his father has some interest, in order to get him away from this girl's influ- ence: Well, to-day, as we were walking along C-- Street, a well-dressed young lady came out of a cottage just ahead of us, and just a few steps from the gate she dropped a letter. Miss Crowell picked it up, calling after her at the same instant to inform her of her loss. She turned just as we glanced at the direction. It was Helen Merrill, and the letter was directed to William Holden, New' York city. lWe were too astonished to act promptly, and, ere we had time to think, she had reached her hand and taken it. No one was to blanie, it was all so sudden; but that letter should have been kept and handed to his father." "I felt so shocked," said Miss Prudence, "at the tlought of the disgrace of being seen speaking to such a creature on the street, that I forgot what duty was; and all we can do now is to inform Mr. Holden of what we have discovered. I don't know as it is Christian- like, but if it was my brother that she was trying her deceitful arts upon, I really believe I should feel like taking her life." "God help us to leave vengeance in his hands," re- sponded Mrs. Barnes; "but it is indeed a hard duty to keep up a feeling of Christian meekness and resignation under all circumstances. Still we must not be disheart- ened; the work goes bravely on. Our church was never in so prosperous a condition as now. Let us continue to pray in faith, and who knows but God may convert even these wretched women." , Here a little meek-faced woman, who had not hitherto spoken, said that she could not understand why it was t "' page: 216-217[View Page 216-217] 216 MA YWRVEED DBLOSSOMS. that so much indignation should be expressed against outcast women, and so little against the men who make them so. "We talk of the outcast leading our sons astray, and forget that [somebody's sons first led her astray. Now, ladies, I think that the virtuous women of society are as much to blame for this state of things as any one. You may think it a strange assertion, but I believe it to be true," "Pray explain yourself, Mrs. Blackman," said Mrs. Schdolcraft, with dignity. "I am not aware of encourp aging vice il any form, and as to yourself, why you ought to kinow as to that; the world is full of wickedness." "5 es, and self-deception too," said the little woman, with more spirit than usual, "and it becomes us to pull the beam ,out of our own eyes, that we may see clearly to pull the mote out of the eye of another. Now what I mean is just this: we all of us look upbn a man who is guilty of sin in this respect with more leniency than upon a woman. In the case under consideration, that of William Holden's trying to take Helen Merrill into society. l-Ie waited upon her to a dance not long since, and every lady left the room, so I am told, and it was ! looked upon as evidenceof their purity, of their hatred of sill; but was it?" "Certainly it was!" "Do you think that I would stay in the room with such a creature?" exclaimed Miss Betsy Jones and Miss Prudence in the same breath. "I suppose not; but my informant tells me, that some two weeks afterwards another ball was held at the same place, and nearly the same company present. Henry Stanwood, this same libertine you have spoken of, was ;, , ), y. .21 7 CIIARITY. 217 there, however, and not a lady left the room, or even refused to dance with him. What had become of their horror of, vice? "Thlese people were not Christians, Mrs. Blackman; and I hardly think it fair to cite them ,as evidence of our being at fault," said Mrs. Barnes. "But the question is, do we not act upon the same principle? Do we not shrink from these poor creatures i as from contamination, while we have scarcely a frown for their companions in vice? Which of us would refuse, suppose you, to treat Henry Stanwood with common politeness?" "Common politeness is due to every one, Mrs. Black-. man." "But do we accord it to the outcast, Mrs. School- craft?" "While we are in the world we cannot wholly ignore its customs," was that lady's reply ; and then, to put a stop to further remark of the kind, added, " we wish nothing introduced here to disturb the harmony of feel- il1 ing Which should prevail in order to successful effort, and I think such discussions unprofitable. Will the 1 secretary please'read the minutes of the last mecting?" This, of course, prevented further conversation, except the whispered asides; but Miss Betsy Jones was heard to sai, as she glanced towards Mrs. Blackman, "Poor thing! slce is no doubt thinking of her sister; no wonder she feels badly. It was a sad case. -Susan Smith was a pretty girl, and we all thought a good one; no one i supposed that she would turn out as she did." What, Mrs. Blackman's sister?" "Why, yes; did you never hear of it? I supposed A. . page: 218-219[View Page 218-219] 218 MA YWEED BLOSSOMS. everybody knew it. She was promised in marriage to one of the first young men in the country, whern a gentleman from the East somewhere, I forget where, came into the place, and, attracted by Susan's beauty, paid her particular attention. This caused trouble between her and Winslow, she taking part with the new lover. The stranger bringing forged references, as it was afterwards ascertained, deceived her into a false marriage, lived with her a few weeks, and then deserted 'her. The ]poor girl became reckless, left her friends, and, they say, is now a woman of the town." "Well, she- should have been true to her vows. What right had she to be flirting with another? I should have considered myself as much bound as though I-had been married; for my part I see no -necessity for such mistakes, nor do I believe there is any." "Neither do I," said Miss Betsy; but somehow I always felt sorry for Susan." The business of the meeting was soon' finished;' the laborers chosen, and their field of oDerationsj for the month assigned them, anl! each returned to lhel respec- tive home. Meanwhile let us look in upon another scene: It is the Sabbath. Mrs. Reid has so far won upon Mrs. Taylor's. confidence as to draw from her a promise of her' history; "but not now," said she; "I cannot tell you all in the presence of Eloisc. I cannot ' burden her young mind with the knowledge of what her mother and sister have ben accused of. I should have left this place before now,/ and gone among friends, but she has been too delicate to bear the fatigue of the journey; the least excite nent would prove fatal to her. I have not the time to tell yop now, for she has only I . g: CIIARITY. 219 gone for a short walk with Helen, and will be back soon. If you will come next Sunday I can talk with you, for Eloise will be at church, and after church sile stays for Sabbath school. Poor child! she is not really strong enough to go, but she enjoys it so much that I cannot deny her." And so, on Sunday, the very one after the meeting of the tract distributors last referred to, we find Mrs. Reid at the house of Mrs. Taylor instead of at church. Very wicked, no doubt, to forsake the sanctuary for the society of one whom the World has rejected; but so it was. Let us look in upon that home for a moment. j Helen is weeping; and Mrs. Taylor can hardly keep back the'tears that her proud spirit will not permit to flow. We will reserve the history for another chapter, only giving here some of the conversation that followed it. "I think, Mrs. Taylor, I may speak plainly to you; you will not be offended?" said Mrs. Reid. "Certainly not. I feel that you are a friend; no Pharisaical idea of superiority, no feeling that it iwas your mission to seek and convert the sinner, lias led you here time after time. You have shown none of this, but only that genuine sympathy which one can accept from another without a sense of degradation." "I honor you, Mrs. Taylor, for your self-respect; but still we must adapt ourselves to conditions, to things as we find them ; and do you not think if you had been a little more yielding, not quite so proudly reserved in reference to your own affairs, that it would have been better?" "Perhaps it might; but what right had they to intrude I! page: 220-221[View Page 220-221] 220 MAYWEED BLOSSOAIS. themselves upon me in the way that they did ? It was not the faict of their calling, but their manner that offended me. Their every look and movement said as plainly as words could have said it, 'You are a poor, needy creature; that we, out of the abundance ?f our goodness, have come to assist, and you should recognize this fact, and be particularly grateful to us, and sub- servient to our superior wisdom.' Bah ! I understand such Christianity as that. Surrender all you have into its keeping, - give up your own judgment, self-rdspect, and all, and then they will make you the objects of their peculiar care, because, doing so, ministers to their self- righteousness; but dare' to be yourself- to keep your own counsel, use your own judgment instead of theirs, -and you might as well be in a den of tigers." "What you say has too much truth in it;, but it only confirms me in my position, Mrs. Taylor. If you really were in a den of tigers, you certainly would not let them rend you and yours if you could prevent it by studying and adapting yourself to their natures. Now it seems to me that if you could have so far conquered your pride--for I must call it pride -'as to have made, some explanation of your circumstances to those peo- ple, it seems to me that you would have had their sym- pathy and protection." "Yes,, every shepherd watches over his own ~sheep,p and every merchant over 'his own goods; and had I per- mitted themn to own me, they woull doubtless have cared for me. No, I will be a free woman, and suffer the consequences." "And I," said Helen, "will sustain my mother and suffer with her. I should scorn to see her receiving the CHARITYI 221 sympathy of people who have insulted her as they did the second time they called on us. Why, had she been the keeper of a brothel, they could not have been more rude to her; and then the tracts they left - those written for the vilest of sinners. I felt like putting them out of doors, and I did put their tracts into the stove as soon as they left." "Do, you know the names of those who visited you?" asked Mrs. Reid. "I have since learned that one of them is the minis- ter's mother, and the other a Miss, somebody - an old maid, one of the prudish, sanctimonious ones; I shouldI think from !her appearance that a man was her especial horror." " Don't reflect on old maids, Helen," said Mrs. Reid, laughing; "you may be one yourself yet.:" "And if I am I will not crXy 'sour grapes,'" was the quick retort. "But in reference to those tract distributors," coni. tinued Mrs. Reid, "they are not all the church; neither are all like them. There are good people there - those wvho would gladly be your friends if they knew how to reach you. But the way has been hedged up; appear- ances are against you ; their minds have been poisoned, and it was a duty you owed to yourself to explain the unfortunate circumstances which have caused you to be suspicioned. You have not done this; you have not done yourself justice, and still you blamhe bothers for injustice. Are you consistent?" "Perhaps not; I have never looked upon the subject in that light," was the reply. "I know I am proud, but I am not haughty or insulting ^;and I cannot accept such page: 222-223[View Page 222-223] 222 M YWEED BLOSSOMS. treatment from others in a spirit of meekness, I assure you." "Eloise finds firi inds and kind treatment." "I know she d es, Mrs. Reid; but a demon right from hell could not do otherwise than treat her kindly. If there is an angel anywhere in the universe, she is one; but I see her coming, and we must say nothing further on this subject now. I feel that I shall not keep her long, and I must protect her from sorrow as far as possible." Eloise came wearily up the walk. Helen met her at the door, and took her in her arms. "Are you tired, darling?" "A little, Nellie, sister; but we had such Ai good time, I wish that you could have been there. The minister told us of Jesus taking children in his arms and blessing them, and saying, 'Of such is the kingdom of heaven;' and while he was talking, little Mary Gray, who, died before we left Rochester, came to me. She did, mother. I saw her plainly, and she was so beautiful; I saw her but a moment, but it made me so happy, and I have felt ever since as if God and angels were all about rne." Helen and her m6ther exchanged glances, and the mother said, "It must have been beautiful, dItrlingt. But here is Mrs. Reid; you have not spoken to her yet." O, Mrs. Reid, I am so glad to see you; but what do you suppose it means?" "It means that God loves you, dear; but you are weary now; would you not like to be quiet, and let me i\ ' soothe you to sleep?" "Yes, I should like it so much; your hands are so soft, and they make my head feel so good." - CHARI'Y. ' 223 "Well, lie down here and close your eyes then, for I must go soon." The child was soon fast to sleep under the magnetic touch of her friend's fingers, and then Mrs. Reid took her leave. But few words were spoken, for a holy awe seemed to have fallen upon each, even as if they were in the presence of the angels that Eloise had spoken of. Yes, they parted, and to meet very soon under circumstances that they little dreamned of, while those who remained pondered upon the words the child had uttered, and she that left doing the same. CHAPTER III. MRS. TAYOR'S STORY. "I WAS the youngest child of rich parents. There were five of us, three sons and two daughters. My father owned one of the largest farms in County, in the old Empire State, besides some city property. I was the pet and darling of the household, and my days passed like a summer dream. At twenty I married' the i man of my choice, for some years a clerk, and -after- ,l wards partner in the store of my mother's brothers in the city of New Yorik. ? I " aWe went to housekeeping in a pleasant cottage, that has since been torn down to make way for the advan.. cing tide of business, and a splendid block of stores now page: 224-225[View Page 224-225] 224 MA YWEED BLOSSOMS. stands in its place. In about fifteen months my Helen, here, was born. She grew finely; and I doubt it there were many happier homes anywhere than ours was. But, alas our sunshine did not last. True,. the, clouds at first were not dark enough to obscure our heart ha)p- piness, still they were clouds, and heavy ones. "George had gone largely into business, depending upon father to help him if he should get into a close ti place. Indeed, father had encourag(ed him to do this; but just as he was about to avail himself of the offer, word came tlat through some unfortunate speculations, together with a heavy indorsement for a friend who had f filed, and left the debt for hiln to pay, my filther hadt lost his splendid property, and had become a poor man. One of my brothers came forward and saved a small remnant of what had been so ample, but the other two were still at home, and what little they had saved went in the general wreck. The shock was too great for one who had Aever known aulght of poverty, and poor fatther sank unde it. Mother went to reside with the brother before spoken of, but she tarried not long. The loss of property, I believe, she could have borne, for she was a wom n of great fortitude, but of a deep, strong, affectional ature; and when father left, and soon after ' brother Henry was accidentally killed, under circum- stances that were particularly painful, she sank underl the accumu ation of grief. It was more than her fralle, already weakened by disease and years, could bear. "Ithought I should go wild with grief; but I saw that something troubled George, and I strove to be as ,f cheerful as possible on his account. Finally he came to me one day and said, 'Amy, darlilg, I might as . i i1 ii r1 CHARITY. 225 well tell you all. I must bring my business to a close. I can go on no longer. I may possibly save a few hundreds, but that will be all, and we shall have to leave here with comparatively nothing, go into some new place, and start anew.' 'I can bear it,' said I; 'anything, if you and the children are left me.' Eloise was then about six months old; Helen five years. George had struggled on two years after father's death, and he could struggle no longer. I said that the clouds at first were not dark enough to obscure our hearts' happiness. They were light compared with what fol.. lowed. I loved my parents, I loved my brother; but the love I felt for themn was as nothing compared to that; I bore my husband; and looking back, all clouds seem light compared witth e one that overshadowed my life when he was taken from me; 'but I anticipate. e' Mr. Merrill made a statement of his business to his crieditors, and told them that if they would leave things in his hands, so that he could dispose of them without sa* rifice, they should lose nothing, or next to nothing; but if not, there would be loss, and he could not prevent it. "They trusted to his honor, and left him to dispose of his goods at the best advantage he could. Every creditor was satisfied, every debt was paid, and we saved just one thousand dollars. With this money we moced to Rochester, bought us a little home, alld my husband Went to clerking again; and I tell you, Mrs. Reid, I never was prouder of him in my life than then; for had he not been honorable? - had he not come forth like gold tried in the fire, with not only name but conscience untarnished? "We were happy in our new home, for I cared not 15 page: 226-227[View Page 226-227] 226 MAYWEED LO for wealth, so that my husband and clildren were with me; so you see that the clouds had not even yet Obscured the sunlight of our hearts. A y ear sped away -a a year of blissful content, and thenthe thunderbolt fell, and the lightning reached my heart. My husband sickened and died, and the light went out of my life. I would have gone too, but my children held me - my childrel: his children, and for his sake I must live and care for tem. T here werno debts, a nd George, when he bought our little home, had it deeded to me; consequently there was no court or law to step in and interfere with me. It was mine, and no one could take it from me. (t So you see I had a home, but what should I do for aliving'? flow should I support myself and children? Pwould ooner have died than part with e. ha no resources but my own hands 'and brain, and I set to work. I commenced taking boarders. I had some nice thins that we' brought from New York, which I nihjgos that we pold, ancd bought plains substantial ones to put in their ,old , andwhought plat o , seelry, and places. sold my gold watch, my best jewelry and two of myi best dresses, and also Mr. Merrill's clothes, for I kirnew that if he could see me and know what wa -doing, nthing could please him better than to have all that belonged to him used for the benefit of his family ith the money thus obtained, together with a ,hundre( and twenty-five dollars that was due to him from hi employer, I put up an addition to my house, giving m more rooms, and soon I was in a condition to take te boarders, and make them comfortable. Helen was in her seventh year, and Eloise abo two years old, and with the help of a small girl to waV the dishes, and a woman to wash and do what else s CHARITY 227 could one day in a week, I did the work for ten boarders for six months. Then, finding that I should break ::r ldown if I did not, and that I could afford it, I hired a ( ood strong girl to take my place, and toqk care of the children, and did my sewing myself. And this I kept ip six years. I then married Mr. Taylor, the father of my little -Mary. I had been acquainted with him :: about a year, he boarding with me a part of the time. f He was not willing that I should continue to toil as I had done, so I'gave up my boarders for a while, and he -"I supported us with labor. I say labdr, for he had no 1 nmeans, only his salary as head clerk. Having been out of health a great portion of his life, he had never malrried, and never accumulated property. W" e lived very happily together for about three years. He was very inld, and his love and sympathy were far better than living alone; but my trials were not ended. At the end of that time his old disease, - that with which he had suffered so many years, and had finally believed cured, - came back upon him with redoubled force. He was taken with bleeding at the lungs, and after six months of suffering he went hence, and I was again a widow. V: "I went back to my old business of taking boarders, and kept it up till aome seven months since, and then, I . as some of my old neighbors were going to Cincinnati , to make themselves a home, I sold my placd and started to go with them. I came as far as Cleveland, when 'Eloise was taken sick, the journey proving too much for her. I stored my things in a warehouse, renting a !. single room for a month, and, taking such things as Ii would make her comfortable, moved into it, intending y .. ' page: 228-229[View Page 228-229] 228 MAYWEED BLOSSOMS. to go on as soon as she got fully rested and able to travel. But she became very sick; and when she was at the worst, and so weak that I knew the least excite- ment might carry her off, these tract distributors came to see me. -' They were not distri luting tracts then; but some one had told them of my child's sickness, and they came, seeming fully impressed that I was an object of charity, and would be thankful for whatever crumbs they chose to offer. "I was full of anxiety for my darling ;i my heart was sore with grief lest I should lose her; and their manner was so patronizing, it seemed to me insulting, so I don't suppose that I was very gracious; and besides, I never did believe in their hell-fire religion, my parents being Universalists. They took it for granted that I was a hardened wretch, who rejected God's mercy, and seeing the condition Eloise was in, seemed to think it their duty to save her if they could do nothing for me, so the began to talk to her about dying, asking her about Jesus, and other things of the kind, and I had absolutely to forbid them saying anything to her, to tell them I would ' not have it, ere they would desist; and then they left, filling my ears with warnings of the wrath to come. Eloise became so excited from the scene that I feared for her life; but by giving her as strong an opiate as I dared to, I at length got her quiet l "And this was my first experie ce with those who are now distributing religious readi lg through your city, and they have been the bane of my ife since." How so?" asked Mrs. Reid. " do not see why they should wilfully injure you." "Well, wilfully or not, they h ve injured me by , - ' 229 I0 \ CIHARITYE 229 their mean, suspicious, and slanderous tongues, till I feel sometimes that I cannot forgive them, even if God does." "Forgive us, as we forgive those that trespass against us." '"True; but oneecannot always feel that. I am not like you, Mrs. Reid -I wish I was, You are the only womlan that has treated me as a Christian should since I have been in the city. Do you .believe in' their three Gods, their election, and their hell-fire?" I cannot say that I do; at least, not as these things. are generally understood." ;" "I thought not." "I know many good people who do." "Perhaps so," said Mrs. Taylor; while Helen asked, "Do you not think that such a belief has a tendency to make people hard and unfeeling towards those who differ from them?". "It may," said Mrs. Reid. "I never have thought much upon that point; and still it must be so, for how else can I account for the cruelty of this professedly H Christian nation towards the black race?" What else could you expect from those who believe that God from all eternity elected some to salvation and \ left others for damnation? TWhat else could you expect but cruelty, not only to the black race, but to all who t- t do not come within the pale of their sanctified circle? Uit{ But to continue my story. Eloise gained but slowly, and I saw that she was not going to be able for some time to stand a journey of three hundred niles by the slow process of canal travel, so I rented a cottage on Street, took my things from the warehouse, and ilb !]i! page: 230-231[View Page 230-231] i230 230 JIAYWEED hLoSSOMS. concluded to make myself as comfortable v;s I could there. "I had been there about six weeks, when those women came again, and this time they were distributing tracts. Stanford, the owner of the house, hac just been there, and his manner had been such that we were' exceedingly annoyed thereby, so much so tha: I resolved to leave as soon as the month was up. They seemed surprised to find me there, and, feeling bitter, no doubt, as they remembered myi want of submission to them on their previous call, came immediately to the very worst conclusion they coull possibly airive at. "You seem much improved in your condition since we last met,' said the elder lady, glancing about the room. "' My child is some better,' I replied. "'Glad to hear it'; but I was not thinkinig of that particularly. You seemed to be needy before, and that was what induced us to call; we think it a Christian duty to see that the poor do not suffer, especially when sick. Now, however, you are well situated, with all the comforts of life about you. To what shall. we attribute the change?' "'To what you please,' said I, for I was vexed at their impudence. Their manner said more than their 'words; still I did not dream of what they were insinua- ting. I had passed through much, but my character had remained untouched, and I never once imagined that aught could be brought up against me in that direction. "'To what we please!' she repeated. 'We should be verysorry to think anything wrong.' They had already told their business, and seemed to be selecting 6YHABSy. , 231 such tracts as they thought would suit my case. 'We should be sorry to think anything, wrong, but circum- stances are against you.' 'What do you mean?' I exclaimed. "'It is plain enough what we mean. Your beautiful daughter, and your changed circumstances, changed from that poor, scantily furnished room to this beautiful, well-furnished cottage, belonging to one of the worst libertines in the city, and he leaving here just as we came in, and with the air of one who belonged here.' "I was dumb with astonishment. I do not believe I couldl have spoken to save my life." "And yet, a few words of explanation right here would have saved you much trouble," said Mrs. Reid. "'We need to be wise as serpents, as well as harmless as doves. Had you quietly told them of the mistake they had made - that you had just learned the character of your landlord and wished to find another house, askino them to assist you in the matter, you would have tuined the tide in your favor. Ah, Mrs. Taylor, with all your independence of character, I find you do not understand human nature." "Not the 'nature of wolves in sheep's clothing, I con- fess, Mrs; Reid, and I do think that these extra religious ones are the most impudent people upon earth; and as to doing what you speak of, I could as easily havt died as to stop to make explanations, and ask the assistance of those who had so grossly insulted me. As I was saying, I was struck dumb with astonishment. T They took my silence as evidence of guilt, and proceeded to' warn me of the terrible consequences of sin, and to tell of the mercy of God that would be extended to those page: 232-233[View Page 232-233] 232 A , . YWEED BLOSSOMS. who turned from the error of their ways. They were proceeding to say Imore, but something in my look must have startled them, for they broke off abruptly and left. I don't know what I should have,done if they had not." "They didn't f4rget to leave their tracts, though; but I made short worlk of them," said Helen. Yes, Helen p t them into the fire before the women were fairly out of the house.. I tried to check her, but she was too excited to listen. I should like to have looked at them, just for the sake of knowing what selec- tions the Pharisaical hypocrites had made." "Ah, Mrs. Taylor," said Mrs. Reid, with a smile, "you will never be happy so long as you entertain such, feelings. Bitternesp of spirit is incompatible with true peace of mind. Why not pity their weakness and self- conceit, and let them go at that?" "That; we may do, Mrs. Reid, when not affc6ted thereby; but when we are so situated that they can sting us to the soul, it is vquite a different thing. I know that there are not many like you, but' I doubt if even you could have borne it with perfect equanimity." "Perhaps not. I have borne much, however, in my time." t "Let me see: this was on Monday," continued Mrs. Taylor; "and the next evening a young man by the name of Holden came and invited Helen to go to a party with him the following night. She went, and was trealted in such a manner that he was obliged to bring her home again." X" rWhere did Helen become acquainted with this young man?" asked Mrs. Reid. "O, he was one of Eloise's friends; she always attracts t.[:t , CHARITY. 233 every one t9'her. He had been to Albany on business, ijl and "came in the packet with us firom R ochester to Buffilo, and there we took the same steamer for Cleve- land Well, the attraction between him and Eloise was mutual; she thought there was no one like him, and when taken sick she could not bear to, have him out of her sight for a moment. I expected to go, to Cincin- I nati, as I told you; and still inthnded to go on when we parted with Mr. Holden at the landing. I thought the cllild would be better off on the lake; but she grew worse instead, and I was obliged to remain. Soon after we moved into Stanford's house, Eloise, having so fir re- covered that she could go out a little, the girls met their, or rather her, old friend - for Helen had barely spoken to hin on the boat - on the street, and Eloise was so de- light d that, child-like, nothing would do but that he must go and see where we lived; thus the acquaintance was renewed. We found that we were near neighbors. The young man brought his sister to see us, p6romised J I that l-is mother would call, and things were going on very pleasantly till those women came around. From that time everything was chatnged. The young man went to New York city soon after, and with the excep- tion of an occasional letter to Helen, the acquaintance was entirely broken off." "Yes, mother," said Helen, "and the last letter I wrote him, telling him that I was not willing to keep up a correspondence, with his family feeling as they do -it was last week, you know- well, I had it in my hand, with two or three other letters, on my way to the office, when I dropped it. I should not have known it, only some one who was walking behind me saw it fall, page: 234-235[View Page 234-235] '234 MA1 YWEED BLOSSOMS. and called to me. Upon turning about, I found myself face to face with these very women." "Did they read the address, think you?" asked Mrs. Taylor. "I think they did ; indeed, I am certain they did; and had they known who it was that dropped it, .I don't think they would have called to me at all. I believe, from their looks, they would have kept it as it was, had they had time to think before I took it." "Iwish they had kept it, and given it to William's father, for then they would have known that you are not seeking to entrap their son. Yes, I wish they had; it would have been much better than now, for those' saints will be sure to inform the Holdens, and it will make trouble; you sec if it don't, now." "You say," said Mrs. Reid, " that from the day these women called at your house last, the pleasant relations between your family and the Holdenis ceased. What reason have you for thinking that they had anything to do with it? You have been complaining of them for drawing conclusions without a proper understanding of the facts in the case. Are you sure that you are not running into the same error?" "Helen, my daughter, are you willing that Mrs. Reid should see the first letter Mr. Holden wrote you after he left the city?" "Certainly, mother; I will go and get it." The letter was brought, and put into Mrs. Reid's hands. There was nothing in it but what one friend might write to another; but the portion that most par- ticularly interests us was as follows - I can never forgive myself for subjecting you to the I q insult you received on that never-to-be-forgotten even- ing. Strong in my consciousness of your innocence, I thought I could protect you, and make others see as I did; but you see how miserably I failed., But I am most vexed when I think how the, reports against your fair fame originated. I always did hate those long- faced, sanctimonious people, who are always talking of man's depravity and God's mercy and goodness. As for the mercy and goodness, I can't see it, if their doc- trines are true. As I was saying, I always did hate that class of people, for if you fail to accord to them the certain degree of deference that they demand of you in virtue of their saintship, they are as cruel and vindictive as they represent God to be to the finally impenitent. Well, my folks seemed well pleased with you till these tract distributors came around and filled mother's ears with a long story of charitable conclusions drawn from certain facts, put together to suit themselves, to wit: that Stanford- the old sinner- had boasted of his pretty bird,' and that they had found you in a miser- able room, with scarcely any furniture, the first time they saw you, and the next time you were in that nice cot- tage, with everything comfortable about you, and Stan- ford just leaving the house. Now mother does not pretend to be a Christian; but she always accords those who do a certain amount of respect that keeps her in favor with them, and she is particularly sensitive in regard to the honor of her family; so when I came home she began to upbraid me with keeping such company, and above all for taking my innocent sister there. This ituade me angry, for I had seen enough of the world to know that you were as innocent as beautiful. Would page: 236-237[View Page 236-237] 236 MA YWEED BLOSSOMiS. to Heaven you were less beautiful, for then you wouild not excite the envy of cross old maids and ministers' mothers! perhaps it is not just according to etiquetite - for me to tell you this, and I would not did I not know that you an-d your good mother have been cruelly wronged, and I believe the most of it has been caused because you would not kiss the Pope's great toe, in the form of modern Protestantism. 'Yes, I became angry, and in a spirit of defiance invited you to that party; but Heaven knows that I would sooner hayp cut my right hand off thar. to have taken you there had I supposed it possible that you could be so cruelly insulted. One thing is sure, however: I shall never see a tract dis- tributor without hating him." This was all that had any bearing upon the subject in hand, so I make no further quotation. Mrs. Reid handed back the letter without a word of comment, while a look of triumph from Mrs. Taylor said as plainly as words could.*have spoken it, "You see that I have evidence in the case." After a moment's silence, Mrs. Taylor resumed: "I thought my poor girl's heart was broken. She wept incessantly for two days; but she had not borne enough yet. On Saturday of the same week Stanford came back. - This time he did not stop at hints, but came out boldly with his infamous proposition; offered a price for my child; and when rejected, with indigna- tion, said that her character was gone now, arid she might as well be his in deed'as in name; and when peremptorily ordered from the house, left vowing ven- geance. This was on Saturday evening, and on Mon.. day morning, just tats I was preparing to go out to look for another house, a gentleman called and asked to look at the place, saying le understood it was for sale. He looked over the house and yard, talked with Eloise of the book she was reading, asked what books she liked, and managed in one way and another to pro- long his stay, till I began to be impatient for him to leave; still he was so gentlemanly and respectful that I could find no excuse for dismissing him. I noticed, however, that he was one of that class of persons who have their eyes open; keeping boarders -so long made me-somewhat observant, and I saw that he was studying us without seeming to do so. I saw also that he had not made known the real object of his call. At length he said to me, Madam, I hope you will not consider me intruding, but do you know the character of the man to whom this house belongs?' "I have recently become aware of it,' I replied. How? ' 'In a manner that leavbs no possible room for doubt.' "Pardon me,' said he; 'I should not have asked you that question, but if you will permit me to be frank with you, I will acknowledge that mny excuse for calling here this morninog was a feigned one. I am bad enough, Heaven knows, but I have never yet been guilty of betraying innocence; and my advice to you is to leave this house as-*soon as possible. Reports are in -circula- tion prejudicial to you; but they don't deceive Ben Wil- son. I have seen enough of the world to be a good judge of character, and I know that you do not deserve the name they give you. I called for the purpose of learning for myself whether these things were so. . I page: 238-239[View Page 238-239] i i /t 238 MA YWEED BLOSSOMS. am satisfied ,that they are not; but Stanford is utterly; destitute of principle. I know him of old. He is not only a libertine, but a malicious, vengeful one. Ile seems to have an especial spite towards those he takes a fancy to, if they hold out against him. I have known of more than one poor girl who lhas been nmade desper- ate, and at last fallen into his power, through reports that'he first set in circulation against her. I tell you he will stop at nothing; therefore I advise yout to leave this house assquickly and as quietly as possible.' "^ Thank you, sir,' said I, 'for your advice, but it is uncalled for. . Iwas just preparing to go out on that very errand.' I-"He seemed confused& at the promptness and quiet- ness of my reply, but rallying therefrom said, 'Madaml, I know I amn a villain for intruding myself upon you, and especially as I acknowledge the motive was not a good one; but when I learned mny mistake, I desired to make all the recompense in my power for ever daring to think ill of you; and now I most humbly ask your par- don, and hope, for the sake of that sweet child, --turning to Eloise, who had been absent during the latter part of the conversation, and now re-entered the roon, - I hope, for the sake of this child, that you will permit me to be your friend, for I feel that I can learn lessons of virtue from her innocent face.' "'The past is forgotten,' I replied, t"uchel by the earnestness of his manner, 'and the future depends upon yourself.' rThanks, a thousand thanks, madam ; I will see tliat you have no cause of complaint,' said he, bowing hitm- self out. I then started on my tour of house hunting, I44 and succeeded in finding this little cottage, where I have since lived in peace. "It being near the church, Eloise can go to Sabbath school, and sometimes to church once a day. Helen and I do not go, for, as I was saying, the minister's mother is one of those who made me so much trouble, though they say lhe is a good man. As warm weather comes on, Eloise seems better, and I hope after a little to be able to leave the place. Warm weather always seemed to agree with her better than cold, and that is one reason why I left Rochester last autumn. I knew that the climate was milder in Cincinnati than there; but, poor child, she was not strong enoughl to go through, and so I was obliged to remain here. Could I have known how it would be, I should have staid where I was." "Do you ever hear anything from the gentleman you last spoke of, - the one who advised you to leave Stan- ford's house?" asked Mrs. Reid. "He calls occasionally, and brings Eloise books to read. He seems kind-hearted and respectful; but I do not encourage him, and so he comes but seldomn. I should not permit him to come at all but for her sake. But the child is lonely; she has not been used to so retired a life, and she hails his visits with delight./ Then he always brings her something fo read, and his selec- tions are excellent." And here comes in the conversation related in the last chapter, when the return of Eloise puts a stop thereto, and Mrs. Reid, after having soothed her to sleep, returns home. page: 240-241[View Page 240-241] CHAPTER IV. FURTHER DEVELOPMENTS OF CHARITY. MRS. REID had been trying to induce Helen and her mother to go to church with her, and at length succeeded in obtaining a promise that they would go on the Wed- nesday evening following the Sunday that she had spent at their house. Eloise was so much better thahn usual that for the first time she was permitted to go out at night, and together they entered the well-filled church and listened to a fine discourse from the Rev. MAr. Schoolcraft, given especially to the young, and more particularly to the young converts who had, recently been gathered into the fold. He painted in glowing colors the snares that beset the feet of the young, and especially the young men of our large cities. "Daughters," said he, "are more particu- la'ly under the eye of the mother; but our young men go forth to oreast the storms of life, and the seductions of vice meet them on- every side; bright eyes and sparkling wine, and all the allurements that aIppeal to the senses; and while all need the grace of God, surely our young men need it in an especial manner, if they would. keep their feet from falling and their souls from sin." William tIolden's mother and sister were there, but they-brushed by our little company in haughty silence; and Mrs. Reid noticed that whenever the minister spoke of the temptations that beset young men, scores of eyes were directed towards where they sat. "I never realized," said she, to Mr. Whitney, the next day, " what it was to be under the ban before. It made me sick and faint. I do not wonder that the out- cast is seldom, if ever, reclaimed; the manner in which society meets them is enough to sink them to the lowest hell of degradation. Why, I would not go through another such ordeal as that of last night for anything; that is, nothing but a sense of duty or the hope of doing good could induce me thereto. It is worse than work- ing for the slave." "You believe them innocent, do you not?" he asked. Z"I do." "And you yourself was acting under a sense of lduty, or rather a desire to do good ? ' " Most certainly-4 was." "Then you have not half estimated the difficulties under which the outcast lies; for instead of conscious innocence and a noble purpose to sustain them, they have the added load of guilt to bear." "Yes; and God help them, for man will not." "Rather say, woman will not; for if ever so innocent, and thdy get the reputation of being otherwise, the niore a man tries to do for them the more it injures them."' " But woman does not pull them down; she only puts her foot on them after they are down, or are supposed to be," replied Mrs. Reld, with some spirit. ' Woman is sometimes man's most efficient aid in dragging woman down, Mrs. Reid," answered Mr. Whitney. "Not till she has herself been first degraded by him, page: 242-243[View Page 242-243] 242 MAYWEED BLOSSOMS. I know that woman is cowardly, and sometimes cruel to her own sex; but her reputation is her all, and she knows it. Were she treated as leniently as man is, even by your sex, it would be different; but with the man is power; he controls the whole machinery of society; can do about as he pleases, consequently can afford to be generous. When your sex pleads superiority over us in that respect, it makes me think of the generosity of the southern chivalry, compared to that of the northern laborer. One is called whole-souled and generous, be- cause another earns his money for llin, :anl he hardly knows how he gets it; the other, close and small in his dealings, because having every dollar to earn by the sweat of his own brow, he knows just how it comes. Reputation, virtue, as the world styles virtue, is cheap to you, but to us it is not. The old adage expresses it correctly; I remember reading it in* the old-fashioned spelling-book, so long ago as when I first learned to read: 'Man tarnishes his; character and brightens it again, but if woman chance to swerve from the strict- est rules of virtue, "Ruin ensues,; eproach and endless shame; One false step forever blasts her fame; In vain the loss she may deplore, In vain look back to what she was before, She sets like stars that fall to rise no more."' With this state of things to contend with, I think it hardly fair for man to boast of his lenity, when com- pared with that of woman. Why, the highest men in the nation, many of them, are guilty of that which, had a woman been guilty of the same, she would have been sent to Five Points instead of Congress." e 4 Hold, hold, Mrs. Reid, and I will give up beat!" said Mr. Whitney, laughing. "Your arguments are just, and I only wish there were thousands like you, to advocate the cause of your sex." When Mrs. Reid returned home at night, she found the minister's mother, Mrs. Schoolcraft, waiting for her ; ahd after the usual salutations were over, the lady began:-- "I called, Mrs. Reid, to see what your idea was in coming to church last night with those women?" "What my idea was? Why, I supposed you held your meetings on purpose for people to attend; and I think it the duty of a Christian woman to ask her neigh- bors to go with her to the house of God." "And so it is our duty to encourage the humble peni.- tent, wherever found; but there is a limit to all things.. There comes a time, the Bible says, when even the Spirit, God's Holy Spirit, ceases to strive with the rebellious." "Have we a tight, Mrs. Schooleraft, even if this ,be true, to decide when it has taken place?" "Perhaps not; still we have our reason, and must judge something from appearances; and these women seem perfectly hardened; their conduct is shameless, and it is a disgrace for any decent woman to be seen in their conmpany." "Had you seen them weep, as I have, you would hardly call them haridened; and what have they done, Mrs. Schooleraft, to merit the appellation of shame-. less? ' "What have they done I Why, isn't it well known that Stanford, one of the worst libertines in the city, page: 244-245[View Page 244-245] 244 MA YRWEE BLOSSOMS. kept them for a while, and then becominig offended with him, or ,he with them, I don't know which, they took up with Ben Wilson, a man of the same stamp, only he ,has no family to be disgraced thereby! They stole away from the cottage that Stanford provided for them the very next day after Ben first visited them, and' have kept themselves so sly that he never knew where they were till yesterday." "How did you learn that?" "Mrs. Holden told me last evening. Stanford told her husband so yesterday." "And how did he happen to learn where they were at last?" / Why, ;you see, Holden's folks have' a son, who is perfectly infatuated with this girl; she has made him believe that she is purity itself; she evidently designed to entrap him into mirriage. They sent him to Mrs. Holden's brother's in New York pity, in order to break up their acquaintance; and now it is ascertained that they are corresponding." "How did they learn this?" "Well, you see, sister Crowell "and myself were out distributing, tracts last week, and we saw a lady just ahead of us drop a letter. We called to her, to let her know of her loss; picking up the letter at the same moment, we found that it was addressed to William Holden, and as the person turned to take it, we saw that it was this very Hel n Merrill. It seemed provi- dential, for now Holden's people will be on their guard." "And so you told Uolden's!people?" "Certainly; I thought it my duty." "Would it not have been more providential had you kept the letter and given it to them? Theywould then ha1ve known just what thd girl was writing." "I should have done so had I thought quick enough; but as it was, I could only inform them what I ha4 discovered." "And where they lived," continued Mrs. Reid, witJ an imperturbable coolness, that ew disconcerte her visitor, in spite of iernelf. "Yes, I told them w er e I saw Helen go in soon after."' "And was that the way that Stanford found out?" Through the Holdens? Yes. Holden himself is a rougll'h, good-natured sort of man, and meeting Stan- Iforyesterday - hle says he loves to tease the old scamp - well, meeting himn yesterday, he says to him, Hello, Stanf, have ybu fobund your, women yet' What womnen do you mean?' he replied. Now this is what Jlolden told lhis wife, and she told me laat night. She would not have thought of it, probably, had she not seen them at church. ' What women do I mean? Now only hear the man,' said Holden; lhe has so many he don't know who I mean. Wmhy the pretty widow, with her still prettier daughter, who slipped away so quietly.' What! the one your William was after? Ha! ha! it was a rich joke to hear the boy rave about her inno. cence. No, I have not found them, neither do I care to; I have 4pad all of their company I want.' 'What, both -nother and daughter?' said Holden. Yes, both,' replied Stanford; I doln't want anything more of them; but where has Ben stowed them away? I understand hle lhas thIem now.' There, Mrs, Reid, what do you think of that? Isn't it horrible to have such characters around?" page: 246-247[View Page 246-247] ,1 , 246 MA YWEED BLOSSOMS. "If you mean such men as Stanford, I say yes. I think it horrible that such men should be allowed to run at large, and more especially that a Christian woman should take aught that such a wretch can say as evidence against any one." "What do you mean, Mrs. Reid? Do you :intend that as a reflection on me?" "I mean just what I say. I am astonished at hear- ing a Christian woman repeat the slurs of so vile a , wretch in evidence against one of her own sex, and as for Mrs. Taylor and her daughter, I believe them pure, so far as what they are accused of is concernedl, not- withstanding all that has been said against them.'" "Why, Mrs. Reid!" "I do, Mrs. Schoolcraft, and am prepared to give my reasons; but first let me give you a little of my own experience as to the maliciousness of xunprincipled men. You know that I am rather independent in my nature, advocate what I think is right, whether others think so or not." "I know that you have suffered and sacrificed much in the cause of the poor slave, and I honor you for it. Would to Heaven that all our womten were as earnest in this matter; the curse of slavery would soon bei swept from our land." "That is true, Mrs., Schooleraft; were all the women in our land to unite in any one cause, they could make their influence so felt as to accomplish the desired object. But there are other slaveries than that of the blacik man. Woman is herself a slave, and 'if she dare to go contrary to the established usages of society, no matter how ,innocent and praiseworthy her object may b:e, she is " CIIARITY. soon made to feel her chains. Soon after Mr. Reid's; deatjh, I accepted an agency that required me to travel. I was poor. He had devoted his life to the cause of the oppressed, and we were left without means. Woman's employments are anything but remunerative, and I fell; it my duty and privilege, if I could, to do something by means of which I could earn enough to support and educate ny remaining child comfortably, so I took a, step somewhat, or I might say entirely out of the ordi.. nary track in which woman is accustomed to travel. ]: said I accepted an agency; I should have said solicited, and with difficulty obtained the position. Stopping to canvass a little village in the central part of the State, I boarded a few days at the public house, and one nighl; at the table the anti-slavery question was introduced, I, of course, defending the abolitionist. - The landlord also kept a store in a small way, and it so happened that the man whose business it was to furnish the country mer-. chants with ready-made men's wear, from a wholesale clothing establishment in the city, was there that night., He was very warm in his opposition to me, and became somewhat excited when some of his argumentswere too readily answered to suit him. Some three months after.. wards lihe chanced to come to another village where ] was stopping, and learning that I wgs there, he took occasion to have his petty revenge. 'lMrs. Reid?' said he, with a contemptuous sneer; 'I know all about that Mrs. Reid that I wish to.' The conclusion of those who heard him was that I was a vile woman, and the report went through the villatge like wildfire; and had ][ kept a proud silence, as Mrs. Taylor has done, I have no doubt that I should have been driven from the place; page: 248-249[View Page 248-249] EED BLOSSOMS. ,41 but a little prompt action, and the forcing of the gentle- man to an explanation of what he meant, by the nmeans of the strong arm of the law, soon put a different aspect to affairs." ' "And were you really strong enough to face such an accusation and defend yourself?" asked the minister's mother, in astonishment. "To be sure I was. Why slould I not defend my- self as well as another? I should stand by another to the last, if I thought them wronged; and for my child's sake, if not for my own, it was my duty to do nimyself justice. Besides, it taught tlat man and that commu- nity a lesson, and should another woman go there, intent upon her own honest business, they will be a little more careful how they listen to or circulate reports against her. So you see that I not only defended my- self, but left my footprints there, - 'Footprints, that, perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn nmain, A forlorn and shipwrecked sister, Seeing, shall take heart again.' "'I know till about that Mrs. Reid I wish to.' These were the words the man used, and the community paays him just the compliment he wishes them to, to wit; that he is a sensual man, and therefore the only inter- pretation that can be put upon such an expression is that the person alluded to is vile. I have no dotubt that many a vile man can say of a virtuous woman that lie knows all about her he wishes to, simply because of her being virtuous, and consequently bf no use to hin." Mrs, Reid, you ought to have been a preacher." "Perhaps so; and yet it would be contrary to Paul's instructions." "Well, a lawyer, then." "I think the day will come when women will preach and plead law too; but let me give you a little more of my experience. I went to ohe -place where people seemed quite shy of me at first, but after a while I gained their confidence, antLthings worked so pleas- antly that I staid several weeks. One day my land- lady said to me, 'Mrs. Reid, were you acquainted with a family of Johnsons when you came here?' "In this place, do you mean?' I asked. Yes.' "'No, ma'am; I know no one here but Mr. Peircy. I met himl at his brother's, in Monktown, and it was through his influence that I came; but I have met a Johnson somewhere in this place, and I cannot recollect where. O, I know now; it was at Mr. Warner's, the other evening.' "'That is not the one I mean,' she replied; 'he is Mr. Warner's brotlher-in-law, and a very fine man; but there is a family of Johnsons living opposite to where the old tavern was kept. They are very low people, the woman especially; and when you first came here it was reported that you met him on the corner near ' Burke's store, and talked with him half an hour, and the conclusion was that you were old acquaintances; but as I have seen nothing tq find fault with in you, I condluded it must be a mistake.' And now, Mrs. Schoolcraft, what do you suppose that story was started from?" "I am sure I cannot tell. Some of your eccentrici- page: 250-251[View Page 250-251] 250 R tMAYWEED BLOSSOMS. ties, I suppose;, something like your going with those women to church last night." t Well, all I could ever find it started from, was. this: The first day I went into the place, after getting a little warm, I went to the post-office for my letters, as I I ad ordered some directed there. The directions were given me where to go, but I got a little confused, turned the wrong corner, and stopped at the place the lady named, that is, by Burke's store, and inquired the way of some one who stood there. He stepped just around the cor- ner, and pointed out the place I sought. I did not then know, and perhaps never should have known who he was, had not the landlady's question, and the story she 'told me in reference to it, led me to make some inquiries, and I learned that that man was the Johnson referred to. 1 \might tell you several more incidents, Mrs. Schooleraft, tolillustrate the question in'point, 'to wit, the unreliabilit of these flying reports; but these will be sufficient, and such experiences have taught me a valuable lesson; consequently I never judge till I have heard both sides of the story -particularly where a woman's reputation ;s concerned. What would you think, madam, of a judge who should listen to the evidence again'st a prisoner, and then remand him for punishment without hearing the defence?" "I should call him a very unjust judge, Mrs,. Reid; but I see what you are aiming at, and I think it hardly fair for you to make me condemn myself. You think I have judged Mrs. Taylor and her daugflter without hear- ing the other side of the question." "Well, have you not?" "Perhaps I have; but I have not intendedl to be CHARlITY . 251 unjust, and where was I to go for evidence? A woman as vile as circumstances compel me to believe that she is, would hardly stop at a falsehood when necessary." "Suppose we dissect some of those circumstances, and then see if you will feel compelled to believe as you have done. In the first place, you found her with a sick child, inl a poorly furnished room, and you concluded froml that circumstance that she was very destitute." "Who told you this? "Sle,told me herself." "How did she learn what my inferences were?" "From a letter that William Holden wrote Helen." "Did y. i read the letter?" "I did ; and he accuses you of being the first one 'to make trouble between his family and them." "Me'!" "Yes; he says that you and Miss Crowell camne and poisoned the minds of his parents and sister b. the in- ferences that yom drew from circumstances, and he feelds very bitter towardsi you for it." " "Better feel bitter towards me than to be drawn into a snare to take a step that he would always regret." "Well, as I was saying, you inferred from,what you saw that she was poor, and she tells me that she sold her house in Rocle,ster for fifteen hundred dollars, besides some money that she got for extra furniture, such as she did not wish to bring with her. She started to go to Cincinnati, but the sickness of Eloise prevented her going on with her friends, but as she hoped to proceed in a few days, she did not wish to bring all of her thngs from the warehouse. It became too cold for her to travel ere the child became better; she then rented a page: 252-253[View Page 252-253] 252 MA YiEED BLOSSOMS. ' house, and decided to stay till spring, and then she, of course, had her furniture brought up and put into it. The fact of her leasing a house of a bad man was simply her misfortune, not her fault." "And do you believe the story she tells?" "Why not?" "It may be true, Mrs. ,Reid-I hope it is. I am sorry to believe evil of any one; but people think that she has told this to cover her conduct." "I know it to be true so far as the furniture .is con- cerned, for I have been to the warehouse, examined the books, and find names and dates just as she told me; find that she did leave her things there for a tile, and 'that she took them away just when she told me she did." -"Well, you are a wonderful woman,- I must say. Who but you would have thought of taking such a course? ' I T I a sure any one ought, before taking upon hearsay that which, if true, destroys the reputation of a fellow- creature; and true or false, the effects are the same, so loncg as believed to be true." "But why did she not tell us this when we called? We would have leen glad to assist her, but she re- pelled us." Mrs. Taylor is a proud woman, naturally reserved, and dops not give her confidence readily; and the very fact of your believing her destitute made your offers of assistance offensive, in that your manner touched her pride." 'Yes, pride is pretty sure to bring trouble. I con- sider it one of the deadly sims." \ - ix it CIIAIR'TY. 253 "And yet; Mrs. Schoolcraft, we are none of us free from it." I know we are all miserable sinners before God, and so much the more need that we should be humble; for my part, I can't see why our offers of assistance should offend the woman." "It ought not to have done so, but it did; some peo- ple are very sensitive on this point, and nothing touches ,them quicker than being considered objects of charity. I presume we all have our weak points. Besides, her child was very sick, and her anxiety - a mother's anxiety - might well be pardoned for forgetting to be as social as at another time." "Yes,' the child was very sicl, poor lamb! I feared she would never be any better; but God has willed it otherwise; but whlen I attempted to talk to her of Jesus and heaven, the mother peremptorily forbade it; and how could I believe her other than a wicked woman?" "She did this because she feared that if the child was excited it would make her worse; and besides, she has been brought up a Universalist, and does not see these things as you do. She had no fears for the child's future, and did not wish her disturbed." "Yes, and that is enough to condemn her; a person who believes in no future punishment, thinks that the sinner goes to heaven as well as the saint-- how can we expect such to be good? For my part, I think those who teach such doctrines should be indicted as destroyers of the public morals, and kept in confinement." And doubtless they would, were all of your opiit- ion; but we live in a country of religious freedom, and such things are not allowed." t. 9I page: 254-255[View Page 254-255] 254 MA YWEED BLOSSOMS. "Why, you don't believe such teachings right, Mrs. Reid?" "I do not believe the sinner goes unpunished; but II have had some acquaintance with the Universalists, and I do not find, them so much worse than other people. My grandfather, on my mother's side, was a Univer- salist, and an excellent man." "Well, it may be so; but for my part, I can't see how any one can believe sudlh a doctrine and be good. 1 'can't believe, after all you have said, that *these women are good; we cannot all have been so mistaken.: " "They must have grown bad very suddenly then; they were considered good peopled when they lcit Rochester." "How do you know that?t" "I have written and ascertained I I received two letters from there this morning, and they corroborat. what Mrs. Taylor and Helen have told me at different times, and speak of the family in terms of the highes;t respect." Mrs. Schoolcraft was confunded. She looked at Mrs. Reid as if she had no pov er to utter another word. She managed at length, howev r, to ask, - "Does Mrs. Taylor know of this?" "She does not; neither does she know that I went to the :warehouse and ascertained the facts in reference to that; but I intend next Sabbath to have these letters read in church, as an especial piece of good news, and I haye no doubt that you will all hasten to undo the wrong that has been unwittingly done to this family." "Why, Mrs. Reid, you will not do that!" 'i CHARITY. 255 ' Why not? The wrong has been- a public one, and why nbt make restitution plublicly?" "Perhaps you are right; but I must go home, it is getting late. Good night, Mrs. Reid," and the lady left, evidently more chagrined at being found mistaken, than rejoiced at learning that a sister woman was inno- cent of the great crimes imputed to her. CHAPTER V. THE FINALE. ELOISE had never seemed better since they left Roches- ter. Mrs. Taylor and Helen -were joyful in their antici- pation of soon leaving the place that had been to them the scene of such bitter experiences. The month was up the following Monday, and then they would start for the city of their original destination. 'Twas thus they talked and planned on that very even- ing in which the conversation above related had occurred f at the house of Mrs. Reid. 'Twas thus they talked and planned, but they saw not the storm that was approach- ing. They had lived so quietly, minded their o;n business so thoroughly, that their immediate neighbors scarcely knew of their existence. Good Mr. Whitney had accidentally learned their place of abode, after leav- ing Stanford's cottage, but had said nothing further than what we liave already related of his conversation with page: 256-257[View Page 256-257] , i 256 IMAY WEED BLOSSOMS. Mrs. Reid, and had' it not been for those women with their tracts, they could have left the city in peace. These charitable souls, however, were so filled with righteous indignation that they could not restrain their tongues from utterance, and so they horrified the good people of the place with the information that they had a vile woman, or ratherl two of them, in their midst. i I The story of young Holden was repeated with varia- tions, till every mother looked upon her son as devoted to certain ruin if these creatures remained in the plhce. Husbands and sons laughed at their fears, but this only exasperated them the mo'e.- Groups were seen conversing here and there, anxiously asking what' should be done. They supposed there were such women down in the heart; of the city, but that they should come into the suburbs, and settle down ampng decent people, was altogether too riuch to be borne. Stanford, who had panted for revenge ever since he was so summarily dismissed froti their presence, fient one of his female friends up- into the neighborhood, in order to spy out and report. On returning to him with an account of the excitement people were in, he hired her to go back and represent herself as a great sufferer on account of Mrs. Taylor and her daughter; they hav- a ing decoyed both her husband and son by their snares. And this woman, once virtuous and good, but who had fallen a victim to Stanford's too well-laid plans, and, losing all self-respect, had since become the agent of his will, actually performed the part assigned her so well, that a company of quiet, well-to-do wives and mothers were raised to that pitch of excitement that they a went to Mrs. Taylor's house and pelted it with stones and rotten eggs. And while "the inmates were trembling with fear, Eloise having fainted from terror, the police descended upon them and took the whole family to the station- house, to answer to the charge of disturbing the peace. It was too late that night to investigate the matter, con- sequently they must remain in custody till morniilg. "This is the work of those Christian women who lhave followed us with' their persecutions ever since we came to the city; and may God reward them accord- ingly," said Mrs. Taylor, in the bitterness of her spiril;. Helen was silent, and the wretched mother continued: Yes, may God reward them accordingly; they are murderers! they have killed my child. Eloise will never recover from this." "O, mother, don't say that," fairly shrieked Helen, while sobs shook her entire frame. "Don't cry, sister," murmured Eloise, faintly; "I shall soon -be better." Every sign of emotion was suppressed almost in- stantly. They could do anything for her dear sake. They had believed her unconscious, and finding that she was not, they grew calm in a moment, while LHelen, stooping and kissing her, replied, with a smile, "Yes, darling, you will soon be better." ' Thank you, sister; now don't cry any more; God and the angels will make it all right. Kiss me, mother; I am tired and want to sleep;" and with her head pil- lowed upon her, mother's breast, she sank away into a Condition of unconciousness, that seemed more like death than sleep. Little Mary lay in one corner of the 17 page: 258-259[View Page 258-259] 258 A. AYEED BLOSSOMS. room on a temporary bed that had been prepared for her. She had cried bitterly at first because she could not have her own bed; but childhood soon forgets, and now she was sleeping soundly. But there was no sleep for Helen or her mother. All niught long they watched over the pale sufferer, and when morning dawned, the mother knew that it would soon be over. The mother knew this, but Helen could not, would not admit the terrible truth; she could not give up her darling sister. When the hour arrived for the keepers of the peace to look into the cause of the previous night's disturb- ance, not an accuser was there; but Stanford was on hand, and with a hypocritical smile, stepped forward and offered to go security for the ladies, and pa4 all costs if they could be set at liberty. "I have no doubt," said he, with an insulting look towards them, "that they have their friends; b t I have. never found them inclined to make trouble, and I think the excitement of last night was wholly uncalleL for." "Hold, wretch!" exclaimed Mrs. Taylor, wi:h flash- ing eyes; "wretch! hypocrite! You lhave caused this, and you know it; and you think by this means to accomplish what you have failed to do otherwise. I will not accept your offer. I. would rather rot in prison than to fall into your power." "Come, come, now.!" he replied, with the same smooth smile, "it isn't worth while to hold anger; per- haps I have neglected yoti, but I amn willing to make all right, anad I can't bear to see yot here." "Great Heaven, murmured the wretched woman, "will no one protect me from these insults?" "Here comes one who will protect you, no doubt," said Stanford, with a sneer, as Ben Wilson appeared on the scene. "Yes, I will protect them with my life if necessary," he replied. "Sir," he continuted, turning to the officer in charge, I demand the instant release of this family; there are not two better, purer ladies in the whole city." "Very devoted lover," sneered Stanford. "Silence, or I will wring your worthless neck for you," thundered Wilson; then, turning to the justice, he added, "Ben Wilson is bad enough, God knows;, but he has never been guilty of circulating false report s of a woman, out of revenge, because she resisted him, as that miserable puppy has done in this case." "You must be careful how you conduct yourself, Mr., Wilson, or we shall have to commit you for contemptl; of court," said the justice. "Will you permit me to be, sworn?" was that gentle.. man's prompt'reply. "Certainly." The oath was taken. "Now, sir, I shall recollect; that I am under oath, and must speak nothing but the truth." "Nothirg but the truth," responded the justice. "Well, then, gentlemen, some four months ago I be-.. came acquainted with these ladies. Through the insinu.- ations thrown out by Stanford', and from remarks that were made by a couple of women whose business it was to go through the city and find out what they could of' other people's business,--pardon me, sir, I did not intend to say ,that, - whose business it was to go through the city and find out the religious condition page: 260-261[View Page 260-261] thereof, and to. distribute tracts to both saint and sinner; through these two sources I inferred these ladies .to be of a very different character from what I found them to be. I made an excuse to call on them; motives none of the best, it is true; but, your honor, I found such an atmosphere of purity there that I could just as soon have approached an angel right out of heaven with anything like disrespectful familiarity. They never en- couraged my visits; still, I have called occasionally, for I felt a better man in their presence: and particu- larly was I attracted to that sweet child who lies there so still and pale, so much like the angel that she is, that one forgets even the thoughts of sin in her presence." The sound of his voice had aroused Eloise, and when he said this, she fixed her eyes upon him with a bright smile, and said, "I shall be with the angels sdon." Tears rushed to the strong man's eyes, as she said this, and bowing hastily, with "I am done, sir," he left the stand. Two other parties now appeared upon the scene in the persons of Mrs. Reid'and Mr. Whitney. After press- ing the hand of Helen and her mother, and kissing the lips of Eloise and little Mary, Mrs. Reid requested permission to say a few words. She then gave a short history of her acquaintance with the family, and of the circumstances which had prejudiced people against them; stating further what she had done to remove these sus- picions and the result. When she spbke of going to the warehouse books to confirm that part of Mrs. Tay- lor's story, the stony look of despair which had settled upon the poor woman's face began to give way, and when Mrs. Reid referred to the letters she had received from Rochester, and at the same time producing them, both mother and daughter wept such tears as are a relief to the overcharged heart. Wilson listened with a countenance expressive of-so much joy that one, expected momentarily to hear him burst out with "Hail Columbia," or "Hallelujah; but Stanford slunk away like a whipped cur. A carriage was provided, and the wronged family were taken back to their home; but it was evident that its most loved member would soon be beyond the reach of earthly troubles. Indeed, she seemed beyond them already, so calm and happy was her frame of mind. Her perfect trust in the Infinite was beautiful to be- hold. "God and the angels will make it all right," was her only reply to all' that had occurred. "They were with nie last night, mother, the beautiful angels, and they made the prison a palace." Towards evening she asked to see the minister, and he quickly responded, his mother coming with him. Mrs. Schoolcraft had thought much since her conversa- tion with Mrs. Reid on the previous evening, and as much as she desired to justify herself in the part she had acted towards Mrs. Taylor, when she compared her course with that taken by Mrs. Reid, she could not fail to see the difference. But what she felt most keenly was the fact that she was the minister's mother, and, as such, should have been first in defending the innocent, instead of being found amonng the maligners. What would people say when they learned the facts in the case? She found herself in an awkward position, and was glad to lay hold of anything that would help her page: 262-263[View Page 262-263] CHARIT'Y. 263 taking it, but the eyes of her child were upon her, and she could not refuse. A satisfied smile played over the features of the dy- ing: The whole company were in tears. "O, Miss Eloise," sobbed Wilson, "when you get to heaven, tell my sister Mary that her brother Ben will try to meet her in peace." Eloise cast her blue orbs, radiant with the light of that heaven he was spctking of, full upon him. "O, yes, you must come; we could not do without you." Then, turning to her minister, she said: "I wanted to thank you for all the beautiful things you have taught me, but the angels are coming and I must go. Mother, sisters, friends, they have come for me. I shall wait for you all. Good by." And without a struggle the beautiful eyes were closed forever. The funeral was held in the little church where Eloise was in the habit of attending. Mrs. Taylor at first objected; but Mr. Schooleraft said, "We ask it as a favor, madam. You and yours have been cruelly wronged, and do not deny us the privilege of making all the reparation in our power, by thus publicly testi- fying our respect," and so she consented that it should be as they desired. The tide that had so long set against this unfortunate family had .now turned, and it rose as high in the oppo- site direction., The church was filled to the overflow- ing, and again the minister spoke from the words, "And now abideth faith, hope, and charity, but the greatest of these three is charity; " and this time the seed fell not among thorns, for the fallow' ground had been conm- pletely broken up. There was not a dry eye in the page: 264-265[View Page 264-265] house, and Mr. Schoolcraft, in parting with Mrs. Taylor, said,- "Madam:, what you have suffered here -the wrongs that you have been called upon to bear- has made a deeper impression upon the minds of this people, will be productive of more lasting good, than all of my preaching for a year past." The body of Eloisewas not laid in the Cleveland cemetery, but in an air-tight coffin, and. packed in ice, and on the following morning, instead of starting for Cincinnati, as she had hoped, the bereaved mother went with the beloved dead and her remaining loved ones on board a steamer on her way back to Rochester, where \ the dear remains were deposited beside those already resting there: and now we will bid them farewell.
